Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016  with  funding  from 
Getty  Research  Institute 


https://archive.org/details/biblegalleryOOdore 


GUSTAVE  DORE 


THE 


BIBLE  GALLERY. 

ILLUSTRATED 


GUSTAVE  DORE, 


With  Memoir  of  Dork  and  Descriptive  Letter-press 


BY 

TALBOT  W.  CHAMBERS,  D.D. 


CASSELL,  PETTER,  GALPIN  & COMPANY, 


London,  Paris  and  New  York. 


Copyright, 

1880, 

By  O.  M.  DUNHAM. 


NEW  YORK:  J.  J.  LITTLE  & CO..  PRINTERS, 
10  TO  20  ASTOR  PLACE. 


INTRODUCTION. 


For  centuries  the  Scriptures  have  furnished  the  favorite  themes  for  artists.  Were  the 
famous  galleries  of  Europe  deprived  of  the  works  which  have  been  suggested  by  the  Old  Tes- 
tament and  the  New,  they  would  lose  at  least  one-half  of  their  masterpieces.  The  great 
French  painter  and  designer,  Gustave  Dore,  after  illustrating  various  secular  works,  devoted  his 
talent  to  the  sacred  volume.  In  this  he  displayed  great  power  and  richness  of  imagination  and 
much  vigor  of  conception,  united  with  a wonderful  facility  and  swiftness  of  execution.  The 
illustrations  of  the  Bible  added  greatly  to  his  celebrity. 

The  entire  work,  in  two  folio  volumes,  is  too  large  and  costly  for  general  circulation.  The 
publishers,  therefore,  have  issued  in  this  volume  a selection  of  one  hundred  of  the  choicest  pic- 
tures, and  these  are  accompanied  by  a descriptive  narrative  intended  to  furnish  all  the  infor- 
mation needed  for  the  proper  understanding  of  the  persons  or  incidents  portrayed.  The  book 
being  furnished  at  a moderate  price,  will,  it  is  hoped,  find  its  way  into  many  homes,  and  prove 
a useful  companion  to  God’s  most  holy  Word. 


T.  W.  C. 


GUSTAVE  DOR£ 


Paul  Gustave  Dor£  was  born  at  Strasburg  on  the  6th  of  January,  1833.  His  father  was  a civil  engineer,  and  was  sent,  while  the  future 
painter  was  still  a child,  to  Bourg,  the  capital  of  the  ancient  province  of  La  Bresse,  and  now  chef -lieu  of  the  department  of  the  Ain.  The 
infancy  of  Dore  was  therefore,  Rene  Delorme  tells  us,  under  the  influence  of  two  striking  natural  objects,  viz.,  the  romantic  hills  of  the 
Vosges  and  the  grander  mountains  of  the  Alps.  But  he  forgets  the  wonderfully  impressive  architectural  features  both  of  Strasburg  and  of 
Bourg. 

It  is  not  known  when  Dore  learned  to  draw,  and  he  himself  is  equally  ignorant  on  the  subject  ; but  before  he  was  eight  years  of  age  he 
could  use  his  pencil  with  ease,  and  when  only  eleven  he  designed  two  pictures,  showing  at  once  facility  and  humor.  The  one  had  for  its 
subject  the  inauguration  of  David’s  statue  of  Bichat,  the  eminent  anatomist,  and  the  other  represented  a boy’s  slide  on  the  slope  of  the  walk 
called  the  Bastion.  He  entered  the  Lycee,  or  grammar-school  of  Bourg,  preceded  by  his  reputation  of  draughtsman,  and  his  masters  had  the 
sense  not  to  thwart  his  vocation.  They  allowed  him  to  draw  in  his  copy-books,  and  place  pictorial  annotations  on  the  margins  of  his 
grammar.  Once,  in  a composition  of  verse — according  to  Delorme,  who  tells  the  story — Dore  gave  the  professor,  by  way  of  translation,  a 
drawing  representing  with  rigorous  exactitude  the  murder  of  Clitus.  While  solecisms  abounded  in  the  copies  of  his  little  comrades,  Dore  had 
alone  thoroughly  understood  and  rendered  with  correctness  the  scene  described  by  the  historian  ; and  M.  Granamottet,  the  professor,  did  not 
hesitate  to  give  Gustave  the  first  place. 

To  encourage  the  boy  to  work,  his  father  promised  to  take  him  to  Paris,  provided  he  obtained  prizes  at  the  end  of  his  quarter.  The  boy 
received  his  laurels  and  departed,  taking  in  his  box  sundry  portfolios.  As  soon  as  he  descended  at  the  hotel,  he  escaped  and  presented 
himself  all  alone  to  the  editor  of  the  Journal  pour  Rire , whose  office  was  situated  in  the  Place  de  la  Bourse.  Judge  of  the  surprise  of 
Philippon,  exclaims  Delorme,  when  the  little  schoolboy  showed  him  a remarkable  set  of  drawings,  among  which  was  a series  of  “ The  Labors 
of  Hercules.”  “ Who  did  this  ? ” “ ’T was  I,  sir.”  Very  surprised,  the  editor  talked  with  the  little  fellow,  who  told  him  how  he  had  seen  a 

number  of  the  Journal  pour  Rire  at  Bourg,  and  how  he  had  escaped  from  the  hotel  to  come  and  present  himself.  He  confided  also  to  him 
his  great  desire  to  stay  in  Paris,  and  study  drawing  and  become  an  artist,  and  he  feared  that  he  would  be  taken  back  to  Bourg,  because  his 
father  found  education  too  expensive  in  the  schools  of  Paris. 

Philippon  was  an  excellent  man,  and  listened  attentively  to  the  little  scholar,  and  then  said  to  him,  “Leave  me  your  drawings,  return  to 
your  parents,  who  are  no  doubt  anxious,  and  ask  your  father  to  come  and  see  me.  I believe  all  you  desire  could  be  realized.” 

An  hour  afterwards  Philippon  declared  to  the  father  of  Dore  that  the  vocation  of  the  child  appeared  really  extraordinary — that  on  no 
account  must  he  leave  the  precincts  of  the  Museum  of  the  Louvre  ; and,  that  things  might  be  made  easy  and  pleasant,  he  would  publish 
“The  Labors  of  Hercules,”  assuring  him  at  the  same  time  that  the  price  of  these  drawings,  and  those  that  Gustave  Dore  could  make,  would 
suffice  amply  to  pay  for  his  schooling  at  the  Charlemagne. 

This  incident  occurred  in  the  autumn  of  1847,  when  the  boy  was  about  fourteen,  and  finally  led  to  his  remaining  in  Paris.  He  stayed 
with  a friend  of  his  mother,  Madame  Herouville,  who  lived  in  the  Rue  St.  Paul,  two  steps  from  the  college. 

Besides  such  spontaneous  work  as  from  time  to  time  rejoiced  the  eyes  of  his  appreciative  professors,  the  pencil  of  Dore  during  those 
student  days  was  regularly  employed  by  his  friend,  M.  Philippon,  in  producing  illustrations  for  La  Caricature  and  the  Journal  pour  Rire. 
These  and  his  subsequent  designs  to  Balzac’s  “ Contes  Drolatiques,”  helped  much  to  make  his  name  familiar  in  the  art-world,  and  to  lay  the 
foundation  of  his  great  reputation. 

In  the  meantime  came  the  days  of  June,  1848,  and  the  impressionable  Dore,  taking  up  his  post  in  the  Street  of  St.  Paul,  assisted  at  the 
insurrection  of  the  Faubourg  Saint  Antoine.  What  drew  him  to  this  volcanic  quarter,  however,  with  its  turbulent  inhabitants,  its  improvised 
barricades,  shootings  and  massacres,  was  not  politics,  which  have  little  significance  for  him,  but  the  terrible  spectacle  of  contending  bodies  of 
men  animated  by  the  deadliest  passion.  Here,  indeed,  was  a school  for  studying  the  live  model,  both  singly  and  in  groups.  The  play  of 
muscle,  whether  in  grimy  face  or  bared  arm,  was  to  be  seen  under  almost  every  conceivable  attitude  ; and  while  the  war  of  revolution  went 
on,  Dore  was  swift  to  take  advantage  with  his  pencil  of  its  ever-varying  phase,  and  to  lay  up  for  future  artistic  use  the  knowledge  of  how 
humanity  conducted  itself  when  loosened  from  all  conventional  restraints  and  thrown  back  on  the  primeval  instincts  of  strife,  bloodshed,  and 
self-preservation.  It  was  doubtless  under  such  circumstances  that  his  marvelous  faculty  for  tumultuous  grouping  was  first  quickened  into 
active  exercise. 

From  1848  to  1852  Dore,  according  to  Delorme,  studied  with  much  assiduity  and  courage  whatever  belonged  to  the  technique  of  painting, 


GUSTAVE  DORE. 


and  in  1853  or  1854  he  exhibited  for  the  first  time  two  pictures,  viz.,  “ The  Family  of  the  Mountebanks,”  and  “The  Thriving  Child  and  the 
Sickly  Child.”  The  first  was  a picturesque  composition.  The  second  had  for  subject  the  meeting  of  two  mothers,  one  of  whom  leads  trium- 
phantly a little  one  with  fresh,  round,  rosy  cheeks,  and  the  other  carries  in  her  arms  a poor,  thin,  puling  infant.  The  touch  of  nature  in  the 
picture  lies  in  the  mournful  look  of  envy  which  the  second  mother  throws  at  the  first. 

At  the  Universal  Exhibition  of  1855  Dore  was  represented  by  three  pictures — “La  Bataille  de  l’Alma,”  “ Le  Soir,”  and  “La  Prairie.” 
He  would  have  exhibited  a fourth,  “ Riccio,”  but  there  was  no  room  for  it.  Of  this  work  both  Theophile  Gautier  and  Edmond  About  had 
a high  opinion,  and  said  at  the  time  that  it  would  have  been  an  undoubted  success  had  it  been  shown.  They  prophesied  of  him  great  things 
for  the  future,  and  time  has  placed  its  imprimatur  on  every  word  they  wrote. 

In  1856  the  English  public  was  introduced  to  a version  of  the  old  French  romance  of  “ Jaufry  the  Knight  and  the  Fair  Brunissende  : a 
Tale  of  the  Times  of  King  Arthur,”  to  which  Dore  had  contributed  twenty  pictures  as  full  of  the  glamour  of  romance  as  the  text  of  his 
original;  and  the  folio  publication  of  “ The  Wandering  Jew,”  brought  out  the  following  year,  was  still  more  imaginative,  weird-like,  and 
startling.  But  the  full  height  of  his  fame  as  an  illustrator  was  not  reached  till  the  publication  of  his  illustrations  to  Dante’s  “Inferno,” 
which  appeared  in  Paris  in  1861,  and  were  re-issued  in  this  country  by  Messrs.  Cassell,  Petter  and  Galpin  in  1866.  French  and  English 
art-lovers  became  familiar  with  the  “ Purgatorio  ” and  “ Paradiso,”  issued  by  the  same  publishers  in  1868.  “ The  number  of  Dante  designs,” 

says  Mr.  Ollier,  “is  over  136 — an  astonishing  number,  considering  their  excellence,  their  variety,  the  extraordinary  height  and  range  of  their 
conceptions,  and  the  pictorial  elaboration  of  their  handling.” 

But,  strange  to  say — and  the  fact  has  never  been  noticed  by  any  of  his  biographers — the  “Inferno,”  the  first  of  this  truly  magnificent 
and  original  series,  was  declined  by  one  of  the  most  eminent  firms  in  Paris.  When  Dore  took  his  drawings  to  the  publisher,  and  proposed 
his  undertaking  the  publication  of  the  work,  he  was  assured  with  a smile  of  well-bred  commiseration  that  there  was  not  the  slightest  chance 
of  its  proving  profitable.  M.  Dore,  however,  was  not  to  be  deterred  from  his  purpose,  and  proposed  to  have  the  work  published  at  his  own 
risk.  In  vain  the  publisher,  as  a friend,  tried  to  dissuade  him  from  such  an  undertaking,  assuring  him  that  he  was  certain  to  lose  his 
money — that  there  would  be  no  demand  for  Dante  with  such  large  designs.  His  arguments  were  all  in  vain.  Dore,  like  all  great  men,  had 
a belief  in  himself.  The  book  was  published,  took  the  world  by  storm,  and  the  edition  was  exhausted  in  a few  days.  The  “Inferno” 
contained  seventy-six  drawings,  and  the  “ Purgatorio”  and  “ Paradiso”  sixty. 

On  the  15th  of  August,  1861,  Gustave  Dore  was  made  a Chevalier  of  the  Legion  of  Honor  ; and  two  years  afterwards,  in  1863,  he 

produced  his  “ Don  Quixote.”  Its  370  drawings  so  enhanced  the  text  of  Cervantes  that,  in  referring  to  this  edition,  the  glory  of  the  great 

Spaniard  is  merged  in  that  of  the  Frenchman,  and  we  invariably  say,  “ Dore’s  Don  Quixote.” 

At  the  request  of  Messrs.  Hachette  and  Co.,  the  publishers  of  the  works  just  enumerated,  he  produced  forty-four  works  for  Chateau- 

briand’s “ Atala,”  forty-eight  large  compositions  and  250  heads  of  pages  for  the  Fables  of  La  Fontaine,  300  engravings  illustrating  Spain,  150 
doing  a like  service  for  London,  forty  designs  for  Coleridge’s  “Ancient  Mariner,”  and  thirty-six  for  Tennyson’s  “Idylls  of  the  King.”  To 
the  illustration  of  these  multitudinous  subjects  he  brought  a vividness  and  fecundity  of  imagination,  a readiness  and  spontaneity  of  pencil, 
unequaled  in  the  whole  history  of  art. 

And  yet  these  by  no  means  represent  all  that  Dore  has  done.  In  1866  appeared  the  Holy  Bible,  with  nearly  250  illustrations,  which  has 
been  fitly  described  as  “ the  culminating  and  vastest  work  of  the  artist’s  life  as  a work  of  illustration.”  The  production  of  these  engravings 
occupied  M.  Dore  no  less  a period  than  four  years,  and  the  cost  of  drawing  and  engraving  alone  amounted  to  more  than  $75,000.  In  the 
same  year  was  completed  the  edition  of  Milton,  executed  expressly  for  Messrs.  Cassell,  Petter  and  Galpin.  Various  other  works  have  also 
been  produced  since,  illustrating  writings  of  standard  authors,  both  English  and  French.  He  does  not  know  himself  how  many  designs  he 
has  made  in  his  lifetime.  Several  years  ago  a collector  in  Paris,  who  was  eagerly  seizing  all  he  could  get  of  his  published  sketches,  had  then 
ascertained  that  there  were  over  20,000  in  existence. 

Turning  to  Dore’s  paintings,  captious  critics,  because  his  intellect  is  so  creative  and  his  hand  so  ready,  are  apt  to  speak  of  them  as 
transient  affairs  that  had  been  dashed  off  without  either  thought  or  care.  He  very  reasonably  complains  that  in  this  respect  people  do  him 
an  injustice.  “Do  they  think,”  he  will  say,  “ that  I can  paint  such  subjects  as  ‘Christ  Leaving  the  Praetorium,’  ‘ The  Night  of  the  Cruci- 
fixion,’ the  ‘Francesca  da  Rimini,’  or  any  of  my  pictures,  without  much  conscientious  labor?  Let  them  try  to  make  a mere  outline  on  a 
large  canvas  themselves,  and  they  will  then  have  some  idea  of  what  th z.  painting  of  such  canvases  means.” 

Those,  on  the  contrary,  who  know  Dore  are  aware  that  he  is  a man  of  the  most  unflagging  mental  activity,  and  regards  life  and  work 
as  great  realities,  and  no  one  was  ever  more  vividly  impressed  with  the  force  of  what  Hippocrates  said  about  life  being  short  and  art  long 
than  Dore.  When  the  lighter  hours  of  relaxation  and  recreation  are  over — and  he  is  as  full  of  animal  spirits  as  a boy — he  will  often  resume 
his  work  at  his  drawings  and  sketches,  and  labor  far  into  the  early  morning.  His  patience  and  fastidiousness  are  remarkable.  His  grand 
etching  of  “ The  Neophyte,”  for  example — which,  by  the  way,  is  among  the  largest  plates  in  existence,  and  will  one  day  be  prized  as  one 


GUSTAVE  DORE. 


of  the  rare  things  in  art — was  the  source  of  endless  trouble.  He  made  eleven  etchings  of  this  subject  before  he  was  satisfied  with  the  twelfth  ! 
His  friends  thought  it  mere  wanton  fastidiousness  to  destroy  plate  after  plate,  especially  as  many  of  them  were  very  successful ; but  Dore 
thought  no  labor  too  great  to  satisfy  himself. 

The  inventive  faculty  of  Dore  is  simply  unrivaled,  and  his  pencil  in  its  creative  character  is  most  assuredly  the  first  in  Europe.  Like 
all  geniuses  worthy  of  the  name,  he  is  many-sided,  and  in  his  case  the  word  artist  must  be  applied  in  its  broadest  sense.  Years  before  etching 
had  become  the  fashionable  rage  it  is,  Dore  had  produced  his  famous  plate  of  “ Rossini,  taken  after  Death,”  so  vigorous,  yet  withal  so  tender 
and  beautiful,  that  it  has  rarely  been  equaled.  To  the  plate  of  his  “ Neophyte,”  which  is  perhaps  the  finest  piece  of  color  and  characteriza- 
tion Dore  ever  painted,  we  have  already  alluded. 

In  wood-engraving  he  has  raised  up  quite  a school  in  Paris.  He  has  the  entire  control  over  these  gentlemen — in  fact,  he  employs  them. 
They  say  that,  when  they  please  him,  no  man  is  kinder  or  more  liberal  than  he  ; but  he  rejects  and  destroys  all  work  that  does  not  satisfy 
him,  and  to  the  grief  of  his  soul  the  engraver  has  to  commence  his  labor  over  again. 

Again,  as  a sculptor,  Dore  does  more  than  bid  fair  for  fame.  By  such  works  as  his  plaster  group  of  “ Fate  and  Love  ” in  the  Salon  of 
1877,  his  “ La  Gloire  ” of  1878,  and  his  “ L’Effroi  ” of  1879,  he  has  already  achieved  it.  Indeed  his  “ La  Gloire  ” — the  second  group  of 
sculpture  he  ever  executed — occupied  the  place  of  honor  in  the  Salon  of  1878  ; for  it  was  the  most  poetical  and  most  touching  group  of  the 
year.  A youth  personifying  Genius  or  Glory  is  being  stabbed  to  the  heart  by  Fame,  who  hides  her  dagger  in  the  laurels  with  which  she  has 
wreathed  him.  There  is  an  eternal  and  terrible  truth  in  this  manner  of  setting  forth  the  price  that  has  to  be  paid  for  “ the  look  of  Fame.” 

Dore  is,  moreover,  an  amateur  musician.  He  was,  as  we  have  seen,  the  intimate  friend  of  Rossini,  but  he  is  none  the  less  an  admirer 
of  the  music  of  Beethoven  ; he  sings  well,  plays  well  on  the  violin  and  piano,  and  in  all  his  social  qualities  and  accomplishments,  from 
talking  to  conjuring,  he  is  simply  charming  ; and  one  can  easily  imagine  how  his  great  studio — said,  indeed,  to  be  the  largest  in  Paris — and 
his  musical  soirees  are  the  frequent  haunt  of  the  rank  and  fashion  and  intellect  of  the  age.  He  was  a favorite  with  Napoleon  III.  and  the 
Empress  Eugenie,  and  on  more  than  one  occasion  designed  and  directed  what  in  Ben  Jonson’s  time  would  have  been  called  their  masques 
and  revels. 

In  stature  Dore  is  rather  under  than  over  the  middle  height  ; but  then  he  is  broad-shouldered  and  firmly  knit.  His  complexion  is  fresh 
and  fair,  his  eyes  dark,  quick,  and  penetrating.  There  is  a peculiar  upward  and  defiant  pose  about  the  air  and  set  of  his  massive  head. 
Though  no  stranger  to  the  love  of  laughter  and  the  joys  of  life,  the  mirthful  mood  is  by  no  means  always  present.  When  it  does  come  it  is 
frequently  with  a bound  and  a start,  and  is  likely  to  be  succeeded  as  suddenly  with  thoughts  serious  and  grave.  Of  the  two  moods,  however, 
the  general  mental,  and  especially  physical,  conformation  of  the  man  show's  a predisposition  towards  the  bright  and  active  in  life. 

Dore  several  times  attempted  the  ascent  of  the  Matterhorn,  and  on  one  occasion  he  climbed  outside  to  the  summit  of  Rouen  (or, 
according  to  some  authorities,  of  Strasburg)  Cathedral.  One  with  activities  of  this  kind  is  scarcely  likely  to  suffer  from  ennui  or  hypochon- 
dria. The  multitudinous  moral  and  intellectual  facets  of  which  the  man  is  formed  enable  him  to  reflect  and  reproduce  not  only  all  kinds 
and  conditions  of  men,  but  all  manner  of  moods  and  fashions  and  times,  from  the  gross  animalism  and  vulgar  wants  of  Sancho  Panza  to  the 
weird  sorrows  of  the  Wandering  Jew.  La  Fontaine  and  Dante,  Rabelais  and  Milton,  all  that  is  glorious  in  legend,  tender  in  poetry,  or 
sublime  in  Holy  Writ,  all  that  is  lovely  in  the  field  or  awe-impressing  in  the  lightning-scathed  crag,  come  readily  to  his  call,  and  whatever 
drawbacks  the  hypercritical  may  attach  to  the  practice  of  the  artist,  he  still  remains  the  most  universal,  if  not  the  greatest,  pictorial  expresser 
the  world  has  yet  seen. 


THE  EXPULSION  FROM  THE  GARDEN. 


The  illustration  represents  what  is  stated  in  Genesis  iii.  24:  “So  he  drove  out  the  man: 
and  he  placed  at  the  east  of  the  garden  of  Eden  cherubims,  and  a flaming  sword  which  turned 
every  way,  to  keep  the  way  of  the  tree  of  life.”  This  pathetic  scene  has  often  attracted  the 
pencil  of  the  artist.  Its  mournful  contrast  with  all  that  preceded  is  enough  to  touch  any  heart. 
The  drama  of  exile  has  often  been  repeated  in  the  world’s  history,  but  never  so  sadly  as  in  the 
experience  of  the  first  pair,  when 

“ They,  hand  in  hand,  with  wandering  steps  and  slow 
Through  Eden  took  their  solitary  way.” 

But  the  interest  of  the  thoughtful  in  the  matter  is  far  more  than  mere  sentiment.  The 
expulsion  from  the  garden  signalizes  the  great  fact  in  the  history  of  mankind,  that  the  race  is 
not  what  it  was  once.  The  traditions  of  all  nations  point  back  to  a period  when  men  were 
better  than  they  now  are.  Human  depravity,  so  far  from  being  a mere  dogma,  the  invention 
of  theologians,  is  a spontaneous  and  universal  conviction.  Philosophers  like  Plato  and  Aris 
totle,  moralists  like  Cicero  and  Seneca,  historians  like  Tacitus,  all  bear  witness  to  it,  as  does 
every  religion  that  ever  appeared  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  But  when  we  seek  for  the  cause 
of  this  wide-spread  and  deep-seated  evil,  there  is  no  clear  and  intelligible  answer  save  in  the 
record  of  Moses.  Man  was  not  made  a sinner,  but,  on  the  contrary,  in  his  Maker’s  image. 
Had  he  continued  to  retain  that  image,  none  of  the  long  train  of  ills  which  afflict  the  world 
would  have  appeared.  But  he  failed  and  fell,  and  thus  was  introduced  the  deadly  virus  which 
has  reached  every  member  of  the  race.  “ By  one  man  sin  entered  into  the  world,  and  death 
by  sin  ; and  so  death  passed  upon  all  men,  for  that  all  have  sinned.”  In  the  sad  picture  of 
Adam  and  Eve  fleeing  in  shame  and  terror  from  their  holy  home,  each  of  their  descendants 
sees  the  cause  and  the  type  of  his  own  exile  from  the  favor  and  fellowship  of  God. 

But  the  same  volume  which  discloses  to  us  the  expulsion  from  the  primeval  garden,  also 
reveals  the  way  of  return.  Eden  has  disappeared  forever,  but.  its  place  is  taken  by  a better 
region  where  the  curse  never  comes,  and  where  they  that  enter  go  no  more  out  forever.  For 
it  is  written  (Rev.  ii.  7),  “To  him  that  overcometh  will  I give  to  eat  of  the  tree  of  life,  which 
is  in  the  midst  of  the  paradise  of  God.” 


THE  EXPULSION  FROM  THE  GARDEN. 


' 


M ' •„?  > ’ -■  : 


' 


THE  MURDER  OF  ABEL. 


GENESIS  IV.  1-15. 


The  sad  truth  set  forth  in  the  preceding  page  is  here  illustrated  in  the  most  striking  way. 
Alienation  from  God  is  always  followed  by  mutual  estrangement.  According  to  the  record 
given  in  Genesis,  when  the  two  brothers,  Cain  and  Abel,  appeared  before  the  Lord  for  wor- 
ship, the  latter  was  accepted,  the  former  not, — the  one  coming  as  a sinner  with  a bloody  sacri- 
fice, which  pointed  to  the  great  truth  of  expiation,  the  other  with  an  unbloody  offering,  which 
contained  no  suggestion  of  unworthiness  or  the  need  of  pardon.  Cain  became  angry  at  his  ill- 
success,  and  even  the  gracious  expostulation  of  his  Maker  made  no  impression  upon  his  mind. 
On  the  contrary,  he  went  from  bad  to  worse.  Envy  led  to  hatred,  and  hatred  to  obduracy 
before  God,  and  the  issue  was  the  shedding  of  a brother’s  blood.  “ Cain  rose  up  against  Abel 
his  brother  and  slew  him.”  We  are  not  left  in  doubt  as  to  the  origin  of  this  fratricide  The 
Apostle  John  in  his  First  Epistle  (iii.  12)  says:  “Cain  was  of  the  wicked  one,  and  slew  his 
brother.  And  wherefore  slew  he  him  ? Because  his  own  works  were  evil,  and  his  brother’s 
righteous.” 

The  artist  has  chosen  to  represent  that  point  of  time  when  the  murderer,  having  accom- 
plished his  fell  purpose,  turns  to  look  upon  the  result  in  the  lifeless  form  prostrate  before  him. 
His  attitude  and  his  countenance  betray  the  incipient  remorse  which  is  to  have  no  end.  There 
is  no  need  to  portray  him,  as  Ary  Scheffer  has  done,  wandering  on  a desert  path  with  Nemesis 
hovering  over  him  in  the  shape  of  an  angel  with  a drawn  sword.  Nemesis  is  in  his  breast. 
He  may,  when  brought  to  account,  deny  that  he  has  knowledge  of  his  brother,  but  no  such 
denial  can  be  made  to  the  voice  within.  And  what,  what  shall  wash  out  the  stain  of  a brother’s 
blood  ? 

Well  does  the  writer  of  the  last  Epistle  in  the  New  Testament  (Jude  i.  verse  1)  describe 
aggravated  sinners  of  his  time  as  those  “who  have  gone  in  the  way  of  Cain.  ’ I hey  imitate 
the  first  murderer,  him  who  set  the  evil  example  of  yielding  to  pride,  impenitence,  envy, 
hatred,  and  malice,  until  at  last  he  defiled  the  earth  with  innocent  blood.  Yet  even  for  such 
there  is  hope  if  they  repent  and  believe.  For  there  is  a blood  of  sprinkling  which  speaketh 
better  things  than  the  blood  of  Abel.  The  latter  cried  out  for  retribution,  the  former  testifies 

o 

of  expiation. 


the  MURDER  Ol'  ABEL. 


THE  DELUGE. 


GENESIS  VII. 


The  last  picture  set  forth  the  deplorable  consequences  of  the  Fall  as  shown  in  the  family 
of  Adam  : this  one  exhibits  those  evil  results  on  a far  wider  scale.  The  whole  earth  became 
exceedingly  wicked,  and  crimes  of  violence  abounded.  So  far  did  this  depravity  extend  that  all 
flesh  became  ripe  for  destruction,  and  unless  God  interfered  the  human  family  would  utterly 
perish  in  its  own  corruption.  To  guard  against  such  a result  the  Lord  sent  a visitation 
which,  terrible  as  it  was,  yet  had  a merciful  side,  since  it  preserved  a remnant,  and  so  saved  the 
race.  This  was  the  Flood,  which  has  sometimes  been  considered  as  strictly  universal.  But 
the  language  of  Scripture,  as  explained  by  the  usage  of  subsequent  writers,  does  not  require  us 
to  hold  more  than  that  the  judgment  was  not  local  but  general,  and  extended  far  enough  to 
sweep  away  all  the  contemporaries  of  Noah.  That  such  a general  deluge  did  occur,  is  one  of 
the  best  established  facts  of  history.  Indeed  no  supernatural  event  recorded  in  the  Bible  is 
sustained  by  such  varied  and  abundant  outside  evidence  as  this.  The  tradition  of  such  an 
occurrence  is  found  everywhere,  not  only  among  Babylonians,  Persians,  Hindoos,  Chinese, 
Egyptians,  Greeks,  and  Romans,  but  all  over  the  Western  Continent,  among  Mexicans,  Peru- 
vians, and  the  isles  of  the  Pacific,  and  almost  always  with  the  ethical  idea  that  it  was  a judg- 
ment upon  a sinful  race.  Within  a few  years  a fresh  confirmation  has  been  gained  from  some 
Assyrian  clay  tablets  in  the  British  Museum,  the  translation  of  which  presents  a vivid  narrative 
of  a flood  and  an  ark.  It  is  quite  impossible  that  a tradition  so  wide-spread  should  have  no 
historical  foundation. 

The  picture  before  us  gives  a specimen  of  the  many  sad  tragedies  which  must  have 
occurred  at  this  awful  period.  Rational  and  irrational  beings  would  alike  seek  some  refuge 
from  the  roaring  flood,  and  all  antipathies  be  swallowed  up  in  the  one  effort  for  self-preser- 
vation. Ample  warning  was  given  of  the  impending  stroke,  but  none  regarded  it,  and  all  out- 
side the  ark  were  taken  by  surprise.  Old  and  young,  fathers  and  mothers,  were  alike  involved 
in  the  overwhelming  catastrophe. 


NOAH  CURSING  HAM. 


GENESIS  IX. 


The  illustrations  of  human  depravity  still  continue.  Even  in  the  family  so  remarkably  pre- 
served from  the  deluge  which  engulfed  a race,  there  crops  out  the  irrepressible  tendency  to  go 
astray.  Noah,  the  preacher  of  righteousness,  the  one  faithful  man  of  his  generation,  deviated 
so  far  as  to  become  the  victim  of  a base  bodily  appetite.  The  second  head  of  the  race  was  so 
overcome  by  drink  as  to  make  unconsciously  a shameful  exposure  of  his  person,  and  this  gave 
occasion  to  an  equally  shameful  exhibition  of  filial  irreverence  on  the  part  of  his  youngest  son. 
For  Ham,  who  first  witnessed  the  unseemly  sight,  instead  of  covering  it,  related  it  apparently 
with  pleasure  to  his  brothers.  They,  on  the  contrary,  with  reverential  modesty  hid  from 
sight  their  father’s  disgrace.  This  circumstance  gave  occasion  to  the  prophetic  utterance  set 
forth  in  the  illustration. 

The  words  of  Noah  have  sometimes  been  profanely  described  as  the  mere  expression  of  a 
drunken  man’s  wrath.  So  far  from  that,  they  are  a divine  forecasting  of  the  future,  and  one 
abundantly  justified  by  the  records  of  history.  The  Spirit  of  God  took  occasion,  from  this  cir- 
cumstance, to  set  forth,  in  broad  outline,  the  destiny  of  the  three  great  streams  of  Noah’s  pos- 
terity. The  true  religion  was  first  given  to  and  continued  in  the  children  of  Shem,  but  after- 
wards Japhet  was  enlarged  and  entered  into  the  tents  of  Shem,  sharing  his  blessings.  The 
descendants  of  Ham,  on  the  other  hand — Canaanites,  Phoenicians,  Carthaginians,  Egyptians, 
and  others— were  all  subjected  to  the  yoke,  and  sooner  or  later  became  servants  to  their 
brethren. 

The  curse  of  Ham,  so  graphically  depicted  in  Noah’s  uplifted  arm  and  frowning  counre- 
nance,  was  pronounced  not  upon  the  original  culprit,  but  upon  Canaan  ; partly,  no  doubt, 
because  he  was  walking  in  the  steps  of  his  father’s  impiety  and  sin,  but  chiefly  because  it  was 
the  people  directly  derived  from  him,  and  bearing  his  name,  who  should  in  the  future  become 
the  hereditary  foes  of  the  covenant  people.  And  thus  Israel,  when  engaged  in  the  struggle 
for  the  promised  land,  would  be  encouraged  by  recalling  the  primeval  prophecy  that  their 
foe  should  be  made  a servant  of  servants. 


NOAH  CURSING  HAM 


THE  TOWER  OF  BABEE. 


The  eleventh  chapter  of  Genesis  informs  us  of  a new  development  of  human  pride.  Men, 
having  lost  the  true  unity  of  the  race  in  its  common  attachment  to  the  one  God  and  Father  of 
all,  sought  another  in  a haughty  and  splendid  material  empire.  To  keep  themselves  together 
and  make  themselves  a name,  they  would  build  a walled  and  fortified  city,  with  a citadel  which 
lifted  its  head  to  the  clouds.  The  vast  and  imposing  structures,  of  which  remains  are  still 
found  in  the  Babylonian  plain,  strikingly  corroborate  the  account  given  by  Moses.  The  build- 
ing outlined  in  the  illustration  is  fashioned  alter  what  is  known  to  have  been  the  usual  type  of 
public  edifices  in  the  regions  of  the  Tigris  and  the  Euphrates,  and  is  therefore  more  than  a 
mere  fancy  sketch. 

The  means  which  God  employed  to  check  the  impious  efforts  of  the  tower-builders  was  to 
confound  their  speech.  How  this  was  done  we  are  not  informed,  whether  by  an  inward  or  an 
outward  process,  by  altering  the  associations  of  words  with  things  or  by  producing  differences 
of  pronunciation  and  dialect.  Nor  have  we  any  means  of  solving  the  problem.  The  fact 
itself  is  certain.  That  God  was  able  to  effect  it,  no  one  can  deny.  That  he  did  do  it,  his 
own  word  declares.  The  race  was  torn  apart  as  it  could  have  been  in  no  other  way.  A 
sudden  end  came  to  all  plans  of  building  up  one  great  permanent  center  of  social  and  political 
unity  in  opposition  to  God. 

The  statements  of  Genesis  are  wonderfully  confirmed  by  modern  philology.  The  many 
hundreds  of  inflected  languages  are,  by  general  consent,  resolved  into  three  great  families, 
commonly  called  Semitic,  Aryan,  and  Turanian.  Yet,  widely  as  these  three  stocks  differ,  Prof. 
Max  Muller  says  that  nothing  compels  us  to  believe  that  they  had  separate  independent  begin- 
nings either  for  the  material  or  the  formal  elements  of  their  speech.  Other  eminent  scholars 
state  the  same  thing  positively,  and  insist  that  all  the  facts  point  directly  to  one  common 
source  of  all  the  existing  varieties  of  lan°maore. 

A pleasant  counterpart  to  the  sad  scene  of  alienation  and  division  in  the  picture  before  us, 
showing  how  men  became  strangers  and  enemies  to  each  other,  is  seen  in  the  miraculous 
effusion  at  Pentecost,  enabling  the  disciples  to  speak  all  the  various  languages  used  from  Par- 
thia  to  Rome.  Christianity  practically  repeals  the  curse  of  Babel  by  causing  the  Gospel  to  be 
preached  to  every  nation  and  kindred  and  tongue  and  people. 


THE  TOWER  OE  ISABEL. 


ABRAHAM  ENTERTAINS  THREE  STRANGERS. 


GENESIS  XVIII. 


The  picture  represents  the  opening  scene  of  one  of  the  most  remarkable  of  the  many 
appearances  which  God  made  to  Abraham.  It  was  for  the  purpose  of  confirming  afresh  to 
him  the  promise  that  Sarah  should  bear  a son  in  her  old  age,  and  also  of  informing  him 
beforehand  of  the  impending  doom  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah. 

The  artist  has  misconceived  the  narrative  in  representing  Abraham’s  visitors  as  angels  with 
wings.  It  is  true  that  they  were  angels,  and  one  of  them  was  the  Angel  of  the  Covenant,  i.  e., 
the  Lord  himself;  but  they  did  not  so  appear  in  the  first  instance.  They  were  in  human 
form,  having  assumed  bodies  for  the  occasion.  They  suddenly  appeared  before  Abraham,  as 
he  sat  at  the  door  of  his  tent  in  the  heat  of  the  day.  He  ran  to  meet  them,  offering  the  hospi- 
tality suited  to  the  occasion,  and  thus,  as  we  are  told  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  (xiii.  2), 
“entertained  angels  unawares.”  In  the  course  of  the  interview  that  followed,  Sarah’s  unbelief 
of  the  promise  was  effectually  rebuked  and  apparently  overcome.  Then  the  men  set  forth  in 
the  direction  of  the  cities  of  the  plain,  and  Abraham  accompanied  them  some  distance  on  their 
way.  At  a certain  point,  said  by  tradition  to  be  Kaphar  Baruka , from  which  one  can  see  the 
Dead  Sea  through  a ravine,  the  party  stopped,  and  the  Lord  revealed  to  Abraham  his  awful 
purpose  respecting  Sodom  and  Gomorrah.  Then  the  two  angels  proceeded  on  their  mission 
toward  Sodom,  while  the  Lord  remained  to  hear  what  Abraham  had  to  say.  This  was  an 
humble  but  importunate  prayer  in  behalf  of  the  doomed  cities:  on  one  hand  displaying  the 
generous  and  spiritual  character  of  the  heir  of  the  promises,  and  on  the  other  furnishing  a 
model  of  intercession  to  all  succeeding  ages.  It  is  noteworthy  that  Abraham  left  off  asking 
before  God  left  off  conceding-. 

To  entertain  angels,  much  more  the  Angel  of  the  Lord,  is  indeed  a great  privilege,  and 
seems  in  character  for  such  an  eminent  believer  as  the  father  of  the  faithful.  Yet  the  Lord 
Jesus  more  than  once  declared  that  any  act  of  kindness  done  to  his  people  because  they  are 
his  people,  is  done  to  himself,  and  will  be  so  recognized  and  proclaimed  in  the  great  day. 
This  being  so,  humble  modern  believers  may  have  as  great  an  honor  as  Abraham  himself. 


ABRAHAM  ENTERTAINS  THREE  STRANGERS. 


THE  DESTRUCTION  OF  SODOM. 


GENESIS  XIX. 


The  two  angels  who,  according  to  the  preceding  narrative,  left  Abraham  and  went  toward 
Sodom,  arrived  there  in  the  evening,  and  were  hospitably  received  by  Lot.  They  warned  him 
of  their  dreadful  errand  to  destroy  the  city,  and  urged  him  to  depart  with  all  speed  ; but, 
whether  his  faith  was  feeble,  or  his  mind  warped  by  the  indifference  of  his  sons-in-law  who 
mocked  at  the  warning,  he  lingered  until  at  last,  with  friendly  violence,  the  angels  seized  him 
and  brought  him  forth  without  the  city.  Even  then  he  entreated  that  Zoar  might  be  spared, 
and  he  allowed  to  take  refuge  there.  His  request  was  granted,  and  the  picture  represents  him 
as  pressing  forward  with  a daughter  on  either  arm,  and  fear  and  alarm  expressed  on  every 
feature  of  his  countenance. 

As  soon  as  he  entered  Zoar  the  dreadful  destruction  commenced.  The  Lord  rained  fire 
and  brimstone  out  of  heaven.  Along  with  this  tremendous  storm  there  appears  to  have  been 
a subsidence  of  the  ground,  so  that  the  waters  of  the  upper  lake  flowed  in  upon  the  former 
fertile  and  populous  plain,  and  formed  what  is  now  the  southern  portion  of  the  Dead  Sea. 
Into  this  pool  of  burning  bitumen  and  seething  waters  the  guilty  cities  sank  forever.  No  lan- 
guage can  depict  the  horror  of  that  doom — so  sudden,  so  complete,  so  overwhelming ; flames 
above,  flames  beneath,  flames  all  around  ; men,  women,  children,  domestic  animals,  houses, 
treasures,  and  even  the  very  soil  itself,  swallowed  up  by  the  fiery  visitation.  Of  all  that  dense 
population,  at  sunrise  nothing  was  seen  but  dense  clouds  of  smoke,  like  the  smoke  of  a furnace. 

But  the  figure  standing  alone  in  the  picture  presents  the  most  pitiable  victim  of  the 
calamity.  This  was  Lot’s  nearest  relative,  his  wife.  An  unwilling  follower  of  the  rescuing 
angels,  she,  in  direct  violation  of  an  express  injunction,  looked  back,  as  if  her  heart  still  clung 
to  the  unclean  things  of  Sodom,  and,  so  looking,  was  lost.  “The  dashing  spray  of  the  salt, 
sulphurous  rain  seems  to  have  suffocated  her,  and  then  incrusted  her  whole  body.’  Her 
doom  was  worse  than  that  of  the  cities,  for  she  had  begun  to  flee,  and  was  almost  in  safety 
when  the  storm  struck  her.  It  was  like  a ship  going  down  in  sight  of  port.  Hence  the 
injunction  of  our  Saviour,  “ Remember  Lot’s  wife.”  Almost  saved  is  not  saved. 


THE  DESTRUCTION  OF  SODOM 


THE  EXPULSION  OF  HAGAR. 


The  incident  is  related  in  the  twenty-first  chapter  of  Genesis.  The  weaning  of  Isaac  was 
celebrated  by  a feast,  at  which  the  son  of  Hagar,  now  a lad  of  fifteen  years  of  age,  derided  the 
infant  heir  of  the  promise.  Sarah  w^as  grieved  at  the  mockery,  and  demanded  that  both 
mother  and  son  should  be  cast  out.  At  first  Abraham  demurred,  but  afterwards,  at  the  divine 
command,  yielded  his  personal  preferences,  and  the  bondwoman,  with  her  child,  was  sent 
away.  It  is  this  sad  dismissal  that  the  artist  represents  with  spirit  and  effectiveness.  But  the 
water  which  Hagar  received  was  probably  not  in  an  earthen  jar,  as  shown  in  the  picture,  but 
in  a kid-skin,  as  is  usual  in  the  East. 

At  first  sight  this  seems  a very  harsh  and  inexcusable  proceeding.  But  it  is  to  be  remem- 
bered that  the  wilderness  into  which  Hagar  was  sent  to  wander  was  not  a desert,  but  simply 
a region  which,  though  not  profitable  for  cultivation,  was,  to  a large  extent,  well  suited  for 
pasture  ; and  to  be  sent  thither  was,  by  no  means,  to  be  consigned  to  destitution  and  death. 
Besides,  Abraham  had  a divine  assurance  that  no  harm  should  come  to  the  lad.  “ And  also 
of  the  son  of  the  bondwoman  will  I make  a nation,  because  he  is  thy  seed.”  He  therefore 
could  rely  upon  that  word  which  never  yet  had  failed  him,  that  the  expulsion  would  turn  out 
for  Ishmael’s  good,  as,  indeed,  we  know  was  the  case.  But  it  was  necessary,  for  the  peace  of 
the  household,  that  the  separation  should  be  made,  and  that  thus  should  be  given,  ages  in 
advance,  a living  illustration  of  the  inherent  incompatibility  between  the  spirit  of  bondage  and 
the  spirit  of  liberty.  (See  Galatians  iv.  22-31.)  This  little  incident  of  patriarchal  life  repre- 
sented in  miniature  the  workings  of  God’s  providence,  afterward  to  be  exhibited  in  grander 
proportions  in  the  history  of  the  Christian  Church.  The  bondwoman  typified  the  servile  spirit 
of  mere  legalism  ; the  freewoman  the  blessed  Gospel,  with  its  largeness  and  liberty  ; and  the 
mockery  of  Ishmael  prefigured  the  waywardness  and  sharpness  of  those  who  gloried  in  the 
letter  of  the  law  against  those  who  trusted  only  in  the  promise.  The  casting  out  of  Hagar, 
severe  as  it  seemed  to  be,  was  only  an  assurance  that  the  slavish,  task-work  view  of  a religious 
life  should  yield  to  the  joyous,  filial  spirit  which  is  the  natural  product  of  grace. 


THE  EXPULSION  OE  II AGAR. 


HAGAR  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


The  experience  of  Hagar,  when  first  sent  forth  into  the  desert,  was  anything  but  encourag- 
ing. As  she  wandered  about,  her  supply  of  water  became  exhausted,  and  her  boy  seemed  like 
to  die  with  thirst.  Despairing  of  relief,  she  led  him  to  a sheltering  bush,  and  then  sat  down  a 
bow-shot  off,  that  she  might  not  see  his  dying  struggles.  The  situation  was  deeply  affecting, 
and  has  often  attracted  the  pencil  of  the  artist.  The  illustration  here  given  is  not  faithful  to 
the  details  of  the  Scripture  narrative,  but  it  represents  well  the  maternal  anguish  which  is  its 
most  conspicuous  feature.  The  lad  may  have  thought  only  of  his  own  sad  fate,  but  Hagar,  no 
doubt,  wept  more  for  her  son  than  herself.  A mother’s  love  is  perhaps  the  strongest  passion 
of  which  our  nature  is  capable  ; and  though  it  was  Ishmael’s  profane  mockery  of  his  infant 
brother  that  caused  the  expulsion  from  the  parental  home,  and  the  consequent  suffering, 
Hagar  thought  only  of  the  child’s  wretched  condition,  and  wept  bitterly.  Nor  may  we  doubt, 
although  nothing  is  said  upon  the  point,  that  she  resorted  to  the  only  resource  left  when 
human  help  proves  vain,  and  prayed  to  Abraham’s  God.  In  such  circumstances  prayer  is  an 
instinct,  often  so  strong  as  to  overpower  the  convictions  and  habits  of  a lifetime. 

It  is  a pleasing  relief  to  the  sadness  of  the  lonely  scene  to  know  that  timely  relief  was 
afforded.  The  unbecoming  conduct  of  mother  and  child  was  sufficiently  rebuked  by  what  they 
had  endured,  and  the  angel  of  God  appeared  with  succor  just  when  the  case  seemed  hopeless. 
A supply  of  water  was  furnished,  and  cheering  assurances  were  given,  not  only  as  to  the  pre- 
servation of  the  lad’s  life,  but  also  as  to  the  fulfillment  of  former  promises  (Genesis  xvi.  io), 
that  from  him  should  spring  a posterity  that  could  not  be  numbered  for  multitude. 


1IACJAR  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


THE  TRIAL  OF  THE  FAITH  OF  ABRAHAM. 


GENESIS  XXII. 


We  are  here  confronted  with  an  act  of  faith  which  has  never  been  surpassed  in  any  age  or 
land.  Abraham  was  commanded  to  offer  a human  sacrifice — a thing  abhorrent  to  nature  and 
reason,  afterward  repeatedly  forbidden  by  God  in  his  word,  and  practiced  only  by  debased 
heathen  in  agonies  of  despair.  What  made  it  worse,  in  this  case,  was  the  character  of  the  vic- 
tim. “Take  now  thy  son,  thine  only  son,  Isaac,  whom  thou  lovest.”  It  was  sad  for  Abraham 
to  lose  this  son  ; sadder  to  lose  him  by  violence  ; saddest  of  all  to  be  himself  the  executioner. 
Isaac  was  endeared  to  his  father  not  only  by  all  possible  natural  ties,  but  also  in  a peculiar 
manner  as  the  heir  of  the  promise.  Through  him  alone  was  Abraham  to  obtain  the  cove- 
nanted blessing  : the  possession  of  the  land,  an  innumerable  seed,  and  a world-wide  spiritual 
blessing.  Thus  command  and  promise  come  in  deadly  conflict.  If  Abraham  obeys  the  com- 
mand he  frustrates  the  promise  ; if  he  holds  fast  the  promise  by  sparing  his  son,  he  disobeys 
the  command.  A more  painful  situation  can  hardly  be  conceived. 

Yet  the  patriarch’s  faith  rose  up  to  the  level  of  the  crisis.  It  did  not  become  him  to  debate 
with  his  Maker.  He  felt,  as  the  greatest  of  his  descendants  said,  ages  afterward,  “ Let  God 
be  true,  but  every  man  a liar.”  His  obedience  was  prompt  and  decisive.  He  did  not  confer 
with  flesh  and  blood.  He  did  not  tell  Sarah,  lest  a mother’s  heart  should  overflow,  and,  with  a 
torrent  of  tears,  seek  to  stay  his  hand.  Nor  did  he  even  tell  Isaac,  until  the  disclosure  became 
necessary.  He  took  the  three  days’  journey,  reached  the  appointed  spot,  made  the  needful 
preparations,  and  stood,  with  uplifted  arm,  to  inflict  the  fatal  stroke.  His  heart  trembled,  but 
not  his  hand. 

What  lay  at  the  bottom  of  this  inflexible  course?  Was  it  coldness  of  heart,  lack  of  natural 
affection,  or  the  fever  of  an  inflamed  conscience  seeking  a costly  expiation  ? No  ; but  an  intel- 
ligent and  mighty  faith.  Abraham  believed  in  God  as  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth,  and  there- 
fore absolutely  just  and  right.  Unable  to  see  any  reason  for  a command  which  wrung  his 
heart,  he  believed  that  there  was  a reason.  Unable  to  see  how  Isaac,  if  slain,  could  become 
the  progenitor  of  countless  millions,  he  yet  believed  that  it  would  come  to  pass.  It  was  sheer 
strength  of  faith  that  upheld  him.  So  we  are  assured  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  (xi. 
17-19):  “By  faith  Abraham,  when  he  was  tried,  offered  up  Isaac;  and  he  that  received  the 
promises  offered  up  his  only  begotten  son,  of  whom  it  was  said,  That  in  Isaac  shall  thy  seed  be 
called,  accounting  that  God  was  able  to  raise  him  up,  even  from  the  dead.” 

No  wonder  that  the  man  who  so  believed  was  called  “the  friend  of  God,”  and  no  wonder 
that  his  faith  was  gloriously  vindicated  by  the  intervention  of  the  Angel  of  the  Lord. 


THE  TRIAL  OF  THE  FAITH  OF  AHRAIIAM 


THE  BURIAL  OF  SARAH. 


GENESIS  XXIII. 


One  of  the  few  sites  in  Palestine  about  which  there  is  no  dispute,  is  the  cave  of  Machpelah, 
at  Hebron.  Jewish,  Christian  and  Mohammedan  traditions  all  unite  in  recognizing  this  as  the 
oldest  known  burial-place  in  the  world,  the  spot  where  the  three  patriarchs,  with  their  wives 
(save  Rachel,  who  was  buried  near  Bethlehem),  sleep  till  the  resurrection.  The  mosque  over 
the  cave  was  most  jealously  closed  against  all  but  Moslems  until  1862,  when  the  Prince  of 
Wales  was  admitted  ; but  neither  he,  nor  any  subsequent  visitor,  was  allowed  to  enter  the  cave 
itself.  The  first  occupant  of  the  tomb  was  Sarah,  whose  death  gave  occasion  to  the  purchase 
of  the  ground  from  the  sons  of  Heth.  The  particulars  of  this,  the  first  legal  contract  recorded 
in  history,  are  given  in  the  twenty-third  chapter  of  Genesis,  and  are  said,  by  those  familiar  with 
the  East,  to  correspond  exactly  with  the  mode  of  bargaining  still  used  in  Oriental  regions. 

Sarah  is  distinguished  as  the  first  woman  of  whom  we  have  much  detail  in  the  Scripture, 
and  as  the  only  woman  whose  age  is  mentioned  in  the  sacred  volume.  She  was  married  in 
Abraham’s  early  home  in  Ur  of  the  Chaldees,  and  was  the  faithful  companion  of  all  his 
wanderings.  She  had  her  shortcomings,  yet  is  she  mentioned,  in  the  First  Epistle  of  Peter 
(iii.  5),  as  one  of  “ the  holy  women  of  old  who  trusted  in  God,”  and  it  is  certain  that  Abraham 
clung  to  her  with  hearty  affection  throughout  life,  and  at  death  was  greatly  concerned  to 
secure  a permanent  resting-place  for  her  mortal  remains.  The  illustration,  with  fine  taste,  rep- 
resents him  as  led  away  from  the  cave  after  the  funeral  rites  had  been  performed,  yet  once 
more  turning  back,  with  an  eager  and  sorrowful  gaze,  toward  the  place  where  his  beloved  dead 
was  buried  out  of  his  sight.  It  shows  the  test  and  the  strength  of  his  faith,  that,  although  he 
had  lived  so  many  years  in  the  land,  and  had  had  its  length  and  breadth  confirmed  to  him  over 
and  over  by  God’s  covenant  and  oath  as  the  sure  possession  of  his  seed,  he  himself  never 
owned  any  of  it  in  actual  fee,  except  this  sepulchre.  But  Hebron  is  inseparably  identified  with 
him.  The  name  by  which  it  is  known  to-day,  as  it  has  been  for  centuries  among  the  Arabs,  is 
El  Khuhl,  i.  e.,  “The  Friend,”  in  allusion  to  that  honorable  appellation  thrice  given  to  him  in 
the  Scripture,  The  Friend  of  God. 


Tills  1UJRIAI.  OK  SARAH. 


* 


■ 


■ 


ELIEZER  AND  REBEKAH. 


The  twenty-fourth  chapter  of  Genesis  contains  a circumstantial  account  of  the  marriage  of 
Isaac,  all  the  particulars  ot  which  are  in  accordance  with  manners  and  customs  that  still  prevail 
in  the  East.  Abraham  consults  not  with  his  son,  the  person  chiefly  interested,  but  with 
Eliezer,  tire  elder  of  his  house — the  steward,  or  confidential  servant,  to  whom  all  that  he  had 
was  intrusted.  Eliezer  is  put  under  solemn  oath  to  be  faithful,  and  then  sent  far  away,  to 
Mesopotamia,  to  find  among  his  master’s  kindred  one  who  would  be  a suitable  wife  for  the  heir 
of  the  promise.  The  steward  set  out  with  large  provision  for  his  long  journey,  and  arrived 
safely  at  the  city  of  Nahor.  Here  he  stopped  outside  the  gate  at  a well  to  which  it  was  the 
ctistom  of  the  women  to  resort  for  water,  as  it  still  is  in  that  region.  And  the  illustration  rep- 
resents him  seated  by  the  curb,  while  his  camels  are  in  the  distance.  But  here  the  simplicity 
of  his  piety  is  shown  by  his  prayer.  Aware  of  the  importance  of  his  errand,  he  invokes  divine 
help,  asking  that  the  damsel  who  receives  and  responds  to  his  request  for  a drink,  may  be  the 
one  whom  the  Lord  designs  for  Isaac.  His  prayer  was  heard.  The  beautiful  maiden  whom 
he  first  addressed,  and  who  did  for  him  all  that  he  asked  and  more,  turned  out  to  be  Rebekah, 
the  daughter  of  Bethuel,  the  nephew  of  Abraham.  And  he  found  united  in  her  all  that  he 
deemed  necessary  for  the  wife  of  his  master’s  son  : a pleasing  exterior,  a kindly  disposition, 
and  the  approval  of  God.  As  soon  as  she  told  at  home  the  character  of  the  extraordinary  visi- 
tor, Laban  came  and  brought  him  to  the  house,  where  he  was  welcomed  and  provided  for. 
But  he  would  not  eat  until  he  had  made  known  the  cause  of  his  coming,  and  how  the  Lord 
had  answered  his  prayer,  and  had  obtained  the  consent  of  Bethuel  and  Laban  to  their 
daughter’s  marriage.  “ And  now  if  ye  will  deal  kindly  and  truly  with  my  master,  tell  me  ; and 
if  not,  tell  me;  that  I may  turn  to  the  right  hand  or  to  the  left.”  The  intelligence  and  fidelity 
of  Eliezer  are  as  eminent  as  the  faith  of  his  master. 


KI.IK/.KU  AND  UK  BEK  AH 


JACOB  TENDING  THE  FEOCKS  OF  LABAN. 


GENESIS  XXX. 


The  illustration  represents  the  patriarch  performing  the  service  by  which  he  is  to  gain  the 
beautiful  and  well-favored  Rachel  for  his  wife.  He  sits  in  the  midst  of  his  Hock,  while  she 
stands  by  the  well,  from  which  she  has  just  filled  her  water-jar.  The  scene  is  a fair  expression 
of  the  pastoral  life  of  the  patriarchs  on  its  poetical  side,  although  we  know  from  the  language 
of  Jacob  (Gen.  xxxi.  38-41),  that  there  was  another  side  to  the  service.  It  involved  continu- 
ous toil  and  severe  exposure.  As  he  says:  “ In  the  day  the  drought  consumed  me,  and  the 
frost  by  night,  and  sleep  departed  from  mine  eyes.”  And  yet  the  first  seven  years  of  this 
laborious  service — which  was  the  price  Laban  put  upon  his  younger  daughter — seemed  to 
Jacob  but  a few  days,  for  the  love  he  had  to  her.  It  was  a sore  retribution  to  him  that,  after 
all,  he  was  deceived  by  the  substitution  of  the  elder  daughter  in  place  of  the  younger,  and  had 
to  serve  yet  seven  years  more,  in  order  to  gain  the  woman  of  his  heart.  But  he  had  begun  life 
by  deceit,  and  could  not  wonder  if  it  was  meted  to  him  as  he  had  measured  to  others. 


IACOI!  TKNDING  TIIK  KI.OCKS  OK  1 .A HAN. 


JOSEPH  SOLD  INTO  EGYPT. 


GENESIS  XXXVII. 


This  animated  and  expressive  picture  sets  forth  a sad  picture  of  human  depravity.  The 
youngest  son  of  Jacob  is  sold  by  his  own  brethren  for  a slave,  and  carried  off  to  Egypt  to 
suffer  exile,  bondage,  and  a life  of  hopeless  toil.  How  came  these  men  to  perpetrate  such  an 
inhuman  and  barbarous  crime  ? They  were  not  heathen,  nor  degraded  Canaanites,  but,  as 
grandchildren  of  Abraham,  the  friend  of  God,  had  been  brought  up  under  the  pious  traditions 
of  three  generations.  The  reason  is  given  in  a single  clause  (Gen.  xxxvii.  11):  “And  his 
brethren  envied  him.”  They  gave  way  to  a passion  which  is  often  cherished  almost  uncon- 
sciously, and  yet  is  more  purely  evil  than  any  other.  Anger,  revenge,  covetousness,  claim  to 
have  some  appearance  of  good.  But  envy  has  no  such  shelter.  It  is  evil  unalloyed.  It  is  the 
breath  of  the  old  serpent.  It  feeds  upon  the  fact  that  others  are  good  or  prosperous  ; but,' 
instead  of  drawing  from  this  motives  for  imitation  or  thankfulness,  mourns  over  it  and  grudges 
it,  and  thus  becomes  what  Solomon  calls  it,  “ Rottenness  in  the  bones.”  In  the  present  case  it 
led  to  hatred,  and  hatred  is  the  next  thing  to  murder.  The  ten  brothers  stained  their  own 
name,  perpetrated  a horrible  wrong  upon  the  young  and  innocent  Joseph,  and,  for  long  years, 
darkened  the  life  of  their  venerable  father. 

Yet  even  here  there  is  a bright  side  to  the  event.  All  this  tissue  of  envy,  malice,  and 

cruelty  was  bringing  to  pass  the  designs  of  Him  who  is  excellent  in  counsel  and  mighty  in 

working.  He  intended  to  seclude  His  people,  during  their  plastic  period,  from  contact  with 
the  corrupt  nations  of  Canaan,  and,  for  this  end,  chose  Egypt  as  the  country  in  which  the 
chosen  seed  should  be  transformed  from  a family  into  a nation.  It  was  time  for  the  first  step 
in  securing  this  transfer.  Accordingly  God’s  hand  was  in  the  whole  proceeding;  not  that  he 
influenced  the  brothers  to  their  crime,  for  that  was  their  own  from  first  to  last,  as  they  them- 
selves acknowledged  ; but  that  he  ordered  the  circumstances  of  which  their  wickedness  availed 
itself.  Their  pasturing  in  Dothan,  Joseph’s  mission,  their  sight  of  him  in  the  distance,  the 
suggestion  of  the  pit,  the  opportune  arrival  of  the  Midianitish  traders,  Reuben’s  absence  and 
the  proposal  of  Judah — all  these  were  links  in  the  chain  which  led  to  the  result.  Yet  this  does 
not  lessen  the  atrocious  wrong-doing  of  the  brothers,  for  they  were  free  and  voluntary  through- 
out. Both  sides  of  the  transaction  are  well  presented  in  Joseph’s  own  words  (Gen.  1.  20)  : 

“ As  for  you,  ye  thought  evil  against  me  ; but  God  meant  it  unto  good,  to  bring  it  to  pass  as  it 

is  this  day,  to  save  much  people  alive.” 


JOSEPH  SOU)  INTO  KOYPT. 


JOSEPH  INTERPRETING  PHARAOH’S  DREAM. 

GENESIS  XLL 


This  well-drawn  and  striking  picture  is  admirable  for  its  verisimilitude.  All  the  details  of 
the  scene — the  building,  the  columns,  the  figures  on  the  wall,  the  dresses,  and  the  insignia  of 
the  attendants — are  in  keeping  with  the  manners  of  ancient  Egypt.  The  occurrence  itself  is  of 
great  interest  as  the  turning-point  of  Joseph’s  career.  On  the  morning  of  the  day  when  it 
occurred  he  was  not  only  in  private  life,  but  a prisoner  and  a slave  ; in  the  evening  he  was  the 
foremost  man  in  all  Egypt,  next  after  the  king.  The  reason  was  that  the  monarch,  the 
previous  night,  had  had  a double  dream,  which  none  of  his  diviners  could  interpret.  One  of 
his  chief  officers  related  how  he  had  been  relieved,  in  a similar  embarrassment,  by  a certain 
Hebrew  youth,  a slave  of  Potiphar.  The  king  sent  in  haste  for  Joseph,  who,  on  his  arrival, 
informed  him  that  his  dream  of  seven  fat  kine  swallowed  by  seven  lean  kine,  and  seven  good 
ears  swallowed  by  seven  thin  ears,  denoted  seven  years  of  plenty  followed  by  as  many  of  fam- 
ine ; and  he  advised  the  appointment  of  one  supreme  executive  officer  to  store  the  surplus  of 
the  plenteous  years  in  reserve  for  the  period  of  famine.  The  advice  was  taken,  and  the  author 
of  it  received  the  appointment. 

A modern  book  of  note  remarks  upon  this  narrative,  that  “ the  wise  men  of  Egypt  must 
indeed  have  been  fools  not  to  understand  these  symbols,  which  embraced  both  the  animal  and 
vegetable  wealth  of  the  land.”  This  is  a strange  saying.  Of  course  the  explanation  seems  not 
only  natural  but  simple  and  easy  after  it  has  been  stated  ; and  we  are  all  wise  after  the  fact  ; 
but  who,  previously,  could  have  conjectured  that  the  twofold  dream  meant  just  this,  and 
nothing  else?  Joseph  expressly  disclaimed  any  power  of  his  own.  He  said  (Gen.  xli.  1 6), 
“ It  is  not  in  me  : God  shall  give  Pharaoh  an  answer  of  peace.” 

The  occurrence  related  here  gives  no  countenance  to  superstitious  notions  as  to  the  sig- 
nificance of  dreams  in  our  day.  Formerly  the  dream  was  a mode  of  divine  revelation,  and 
proper  means  were  afforded  for  attesting  its  character.  No  such  vouchers  now  exist,  and  it  is, 
therefore,  mere  delusion  to  be  frightened  or  elated  by  what  occurs  in  sleep.  God,  of  course, 
may  impart  information  in  that  way  ; but  that  he  does  not.  is  admitted  by  all  careful  observers 
of  divine  providence  and  human  experience.  It  is  true  that  there  have  been  cases  in  which 
remarkable  dreams  have  been  followed  by  corresponding  occurrences  in  actual  life  ; but  they 
who  not  this  forget  that  there  are  very  many  more  cases  in  which  no  such  correspondence 


ensues. 


JOSKIMI  INTKRPRKTING  I'HARAUH'S  DRKAM 


JOSEPH  MAKING  HIMSELF  KNOWN  TO  HIS  BRETHREN. 


GENESIS  XLV. 


This  admirable  illustration,  drawn  with  the  same  fidelity  to  the  details  of  Egyptian  life  and 
manners  as  the  preceding,  presents  the  denouement  or  unfolding  point  of  the  interesting  narra- 
tive prolonged  through  seven  chapters  of  the  book  of  Genesis.  It  is  Joseph’s  discovery  of 
himself  to  his  brothers.  Such  recognitions  or  discoveries  have  always  been  esteemed  the  most 
effective  features  of  a story  or  a drama,  and,  as  such,  are  carefully  discussed  in  the  Poetic  of 
Aristotle,  who  quotes  striking  examples  from  Homer  and  the  dramatic  poets.  He  has  quoted 
none,  however,  nor  does  all  literature  furnish  any,  superior  to  the  one  before  us.  Moses,  relat- 
ing simple  facts,  has  constructed  a story  equal  to  any  product  of  the  dramatic  art.  The  tale, 
which  rivets  the  ear  of  listening  children,  lays  the  same  magic  spell  upon  mature  and  accom- 
plished scholars.  What  dramatic  elements  it  contains  ! what  passions,  good  and  bad,  it 
exhibits  ! what  eloquence,  what  pathos,  what  vivid  contrasts,  what  varied  characters ! And  yet 
how  naturally  the  whole  history  unrolls  itself,  from  the  first  step  in  Canaan  down  to  the  closing 
scene  in  the  governor’s  palace  ! 

Yet,  striking  as  the  narrative  is  in  a literary  or  dramatic  point  of  view,  it  is  far  more  so  in 
its  providential  aspects,  direct  and  indirect.  It  was  a constituent  part  of  the  procedure  by 
which  the  chosen  seed  developed  its  sinew  and  muscle  in  preparation  for  the  chosen  land.  So, 
too,  with  the  incidental  details.  The  permission  of  evil,  its  counteraction,  its  modification,  its 
conversion  into  good  ; the  discipline  of  sorrow  and  trial  ; the  combination  of  divine  purpose 
and  human  freedom  ; the  safety  of  unswerving  rectitude  ; the  folly  of  sin  ; the  keenness  of 
temptation,  and  the  way  to  overcome  it — all  these  points,  and  many  more,  render  the  story  of 
Joseph  as  profitable  as  it  is  interesting. 

For  a long  time  prior  to  the  scene  depicted  in  the  illustration,  Joseph  had  practiced  a 
laborious  and  painful  self-restraint.  But  the  time  had  come  for  throwing  off  the  mask ; 
and,  indeed,  the  wonderful  speech  of  Judah  quite  overpowered  Joseph,  so  that,  excluding 
strangers,  he  made  the  announcement  with  flowing  tears.  His  brethren  were  told  that  he  was 
the  boy  whom  they  had  sold  as  a slave  twenty-two  years  before.  1 hey  could  not  believe  it. 
But  he  gave  irresistible  proof,  saying,  “ I am  Joseph,  whom  ye  sold  into  Egypt."  Here  was  a 
secret  known  only  to  themselves — hidden  carefully  even  from  Benjamin.  The  other  possessor 
of  this  guilty  secret  must  be  their  long-lost  brother  himself.  No  wonder  that,  in  the  picture, 
every  form  is  bowed  and  every  face  covered. 


JOSEPH  MAKING  HIMSELF  KNOWN  TO  IMS  BRETHREN. 


MOSES  IN  THE  BULRUSHES. 


EXODUS  II. 


Nothing  is  more  remarkable  in  the  developments  of  divine  providence  than  the  way  in 
which  human  wickedness  is  made  to  defeat  itself.  A signal  instance  was  seen  in  the  history  of 
Joseph.  Another  is  furnished  in  the  graphic  illustration  before  us.  Pharaoh,  alarmed  by  the 
rapid  increase  of  the  children  of  Israel,  gave  orders  that  every  male  child  should  be  slain  as 
soon  as  born  ; yet  this  cruel  edict  gave  occasion  to  the  training  and  preparation  of  the  very 
man  who  was  to  lead  Israel  in  triumph  out  of  Egypt.  There  was  born  to  a pious  pair  of  the 
house  of  Levi  a child  of  extraordinary  beauty,  said,  in  Acts  vii.  20,  to  be  “exceeding  fair”  {lit. 
fair  to  God,  i.  c.,  in  his  view,  who  judges  truly),  and  the  mother  seems  to  have  regarded  this 
as  a peculiar  token  of  divine  approval,  and  a sign  that  God  had  some  special  purpose  concern- 
ing him.  Accordingly  she  hid  him  for  three  months,  and  when  this  concealment  was  no  longer 
possible,  she  resorted  to  an  expedient  which,  although  trying  to  her  feelings,  yet  offered  some 
prospect  of  deliverance.  She  constructed  a little  chest  of  rushes,  i.  e.,  of  the  papyrus,  once  very 
common  in  Egypt,  but  now  wholly  extinct.  This  was  daubed  with  slime  (the  bitumen  or 
asphalt  of  the  Dead  Sea)  and  pitch,  and  thus  made  water-tight.  Having  put  the  child  into 
this  ark,  as  it  was  called,  she  placed  it  in  the  reeds  on  the  bank  of  the  Nile,  not  at  random, 
but,  as  the  sequel  shows,  at  a place  where  Pharaoh’s  daughter  was  accustomed  to  bathe,  in 
accordance  with  a custom  which,  although  now  wholly  unknown  in  Egypt,  once  was  very 
prevalent  there,  as  appears  by  the  monuments. 

Then  occurred  the  scene  set  forth  in  the  picture.  The  royal  lady  saw  the  child,  and  her 
heart  was  touched  by  its  tears.  The  exposure  led  her  at  once  to  conclude  that  it  was  one  of 
the  Hebrews’  children  ; but  she  was  so  won  by  the  attractiveness  of  the  babe  that  she  deter- 
mined to  bring  it  up,  notwithstanding  the  king’s  prohibition.  The  services  of  the  mother  were 
secured  to  nurse  the  child  for  the  princess,  and  so  Moses  was  put  upon  that  course  which  had 
such  marvellous  results.  Born  a slave,  and  under  sentence  of  death,  he  was  spared  and  reared 
in  a palace.  As  an  adopted  son  of  the  princess,  he  would  be,  of  course,  as  we  are  told  by  Ste- 
phen (Acts  vii.  22)  that  he  was,  “educated  in  all  the  wisdom  of  the  Egyptians,”  a wisdom  that 
was  proverbial  in  the  ancient  world.  Such  was  the  fact,  and  it  is  apparent  in  the  whole 
course  of  Moses,  the  most  illustrious  name  in  the  Hebrew  annals.  An  extraordinary  prepa- 
ration was  needed  for  his  extraordinary  mission,  and  he  received  it  by  means  of  the  device  of 
his  mother. 


MOSES  IN  THE  BULRUSHES. 


THE  WAR  AGAINST  GIBEON. 


JOSHUA  X. 


The  conquest  of  Canaan,  after  the  reduction  of  Jericho  and  Ai,  was  accomplished  mainly 
by  two  great  victories  gained  by  Joshua  : one  at  Gibeon,  over  the  confederate  tribes  and  kings 
of  southern  Palestine  ; the  other  at  the  waters  of  Merom,  over  a similar  confederation  of  the 
people  of  the  north.  In  both  cases  the  attack  was  made  suddenly,  and  the  enemy  was  taken 
by  surprise.  The  leader  of  Israel  was  not  only  a man  of  integrity,  faith,  and  prayer,  but  also 
a born  soldier,  endowed  with  the  decision,  promptness,  courage,  foresight,  and  unconquerable 
will  which  are  requisite  for  success  in  war.  Joshua  was  just  as  well  qualified  by  his  gifts,  natu- 
ral and  acquired,  to  lead  an  army,  as  Moses  was,  by  his  character  and  training,  to  legislate  for 
a people. 

The  first  of  these  two  great  battles  was  fought  at  Gibeon.  Joshua  having  learned  that  five 
kings  were  encamped  against  Gibeon,  made  a night  march  from  Gilgal,  and  fell  upon  the  foe 
like  a thunderbolt.  An  immediate  rout  was  the  result.  The  discomfiture  was  made  more 
complete  by  a storm  of  great  hailstones,  which  inflicted  a greater  loss  of  life  than  even  the 
sword  of  the  conquerors.  But  in  the  thick  of  the  pursuit  the  shades  of  night  began  to  draw 
on,  and  threaten  a fatal  interruption  of  the  work.  It  was  greatly  important  that  the  full  fruits 
of  the  victory  should  be  gathered,  and  hence  occurred  the  remarkable  interposition  set  forth  in 
the  illustration.  Joshua  was  inspired  to  command  the  sun  and  the  moon  to  stand  still,  and 
those  heavenly  bodies  obeyed  his  order.  They  shed  forth  their  light  “ until  the  people  had. 
avenged  themselves  upon  their  enemies.”  Well  does  the  historian  add,  “And  there  was  no 
day  like  that  before  it  or  after  it,  that  the  Lord  hearkened  unto  the  voice  of  a man.” 

The  account  has  often  been  made  the  theme  of  severe  and  derisive  remarks,  for  which 
there  is  no  excuse.  For  it  by  no  means  implies  a sudden  arrest  of  the  revolution  of  the  earth 
upon  its  axis.  According  to  the  usual  method  of  Scripture,  which  describes  things  according 
to  their  appearance,  all  that  we  need  to  hold  is  that  there  was  simply  an  optical  pause  of  the 
sun — an  astronomical  phenomenon  which  supernaturally  prolonged  the  light,  so  that  there  was 
time  for  Israel  to  complete  the  overthrow  of  their  foes.  To  the  rest  of  the  world  there  was  no 
change  in  the  appearance  of  the  skies.  That  God  was  able  to  effect  this  astounding  miracle, 
no  believer  in  his  existence  can  deny  or  doubt.  That  it  was  a fitting  thing  to  do  under  the 
circumstances,  that  it  must  have  wrought  a mighty  increase  of  the  zeal  of  the  people,  and  so 
contributed  largely  to  their  success,  seems  apparent  on  the  very  face  of  the  matter. 


THE  WAR  AGAINST  GIBEON, 


SISERA  SLAIN  BY  JAEL. 

JUDGES  IV. 


For  twenty  years  the  Israelites  had  groaned  under  the  oppressive  yoke  of  a Canaanite  king 
whose  rule  extended  from  the  northern  boundary  of  the  land  down  to  the  river  Kishon.  The 
Lord  was  pleased  to  sell  this  mighty  potentate  into  the  hands  of  a woman.  An  inspired 
prophetess  directed  the  campaign.  When  the  call  went  forth  for  all  the  people  to  come  to  the 
help  of  the  Lord,  only  a few  complied.  Gilead  remained  passive  beyond  the  Jordan.  Asher 
sheltered  himself  in  his  creeks  by  the  seashore,  and  Reuben  preferred  the  bleatings  of  his 
Hocks  to  the  shock  of  arms.  But  Zebulun  and  Naphtali  were  a people  that  jeoparded  their 
lives  in  the  high  places  of  the  held.  Ten  thousand  of  these  hardy  mountaineers  rallied  around 
the  standard  of  Deborah  and  Barak,  at  Mount  Tabor.  An  impetuous  charge  upon  the  enemy 
resulted  in  the  annihilation  of  Sisera  and  all  his  host,  notwithstanding  their  superiority  in  num- 
bers and  equipments.  Sisera,  the  captain  of  the  host,  hed  away  on  foot,  and  naturally  turned 
his  steps  homeward  toward  Kedesh,  and,  on  the  way,  took  refuge  in  the  tent  of  Jael,  the  wife 
of  Heber,  the  Ivenite,  with  whom  he  had  been  at  peace.  She  received  him  hospitably,  gave 
him  a cup  of  thickened  milk,  and  covered  him  with  a mantle  as  he  lay  down  to  rest.  Then, 
when  he  was  overborne  by  fatigue  and  sleep,  she  took  a tent-pin  and  drove  it  into  and  through 
his  temples,  fastening  him  to  the  ground.  When  Barak  came  up  in  hot  pursuit,  Jael  went  to 
meet  him,  and  said,  “ Come,  and  I will  show  thee  the  man  whom  thou  seekest.”  Her  fulfill- 
ment of  this  promise  is  the  subject  of  the  picture  before  us.  She  has  drawn  the  curtain  and 
disclosed  the  mighty  chieftain  lying  dead  on  the  earth. 

Jael  performed  the  bloody  deed  not  from  personal  malice  nor  from  cruelty.  She  has  no 
personal  wrong  to  revenge,  no  by-ends  to  seek.  But  Sisera  represents  to  her  the  oppressor  of 
the  people  of  God,  with  whose  life  her  own  and  that  of  her  race  have  become  identified.  A 
ruthless  warrior  lies  before  her,  the  violator  of  a thousand  laws  of  right,  and  the  enemy  of  God. 
Shall  she  allow  him  to  recover  strength,  recall  his  scattered  troops,  and  again  renew  the  intol- 
erable oppression  of  former  years?  or  shall  she,  with  one  bold  stroke,  put  the  finishing  touch 
. to  the  recent  victory,  and  end  forever  the  career  of  Israel’s  most  formidable  foe  ? She  decides 
for  freedom  and  Israel  and  God,  and  Sisera  lies  pinned  to  the  earth — smitten  not  by  the  sword 
of  a soldier,  but  by  the  hand  of  a woman.  Viewing  the  matter  in  this  light,  Deborah  pro- 
nounces Tael  blessed  above  women  ; and  we,  while  regretting  and  reprobating  her  falsehood, 
may  yet  join  in  celebrating  her  intrepidity,  her  zeal,  and  her  deliberate  preference  of  the 
friends  of  God  to  his  enemies. 


SISERA  SLAIN  BY  | AEL. 


DEBORAH’S  SONG  OF  TRIUMPH. 


JUDGES  V. 

The  illustration  represents  a female  figure  in  the  foreground,  with  uplifted  hand  and  impas- 
sioned face,  while,  on  either  side  of  her,  stand  those  who  listen  with  eager  interest  and  pro- 
found attention.  The  artist  has  not  exaggerated.  Indeed  no  artist  could  exaggerate  the 
power  of  the  only  female  judge  mentioned  in  Scripture.  Her  position  was  in  every  way  excep- 
tional, for  she  was  “a  prophetess,”  and  prophetic  functions  were  assigned  to  no  one  of  the 
judges  before  Samuel.  The  subjective  nature  and  position  of  women  were  interrupted  in  her 
case,  and  she  was  elevated  above  her  countrymen  by  the  Spirit  of  God  dwelling  within  her. 
She  sat  under  the  palm-tree  called  by  her  name,  which  was  in  the  center  of  the  land,  some- 
where between  Benjamin  and  Ephraim,  and  to  her  came  the  tribes  for  judgment.  But  not 
only  in  internal  affairs  and  domestic  disputes  did  she  decide  among  the  people,  but  she  also 
took  the  lead  in  a great  national  crisis.  Her  name  is  conspicuous  among  those  eminent  women 
who,  in  times  of  distress,  when  men  despaired,  came  to  the  front  and  organized  victory.  Her 
spirit  was  like  a torch  for  Israel,  kindling  their  languid  hearts.  As  an  organ  of  the  divine 
impulses  she  became  the  rallying  point  of  her  countrymen,  and  communicated  to  them  her  own 
moral  energy,  so  that  they  were  ready,  when  headed  even  by  a woman,  to  defy  the  master  of 
nine  hundred  chariots  of  iron. 

Some  women  are  great  in  words,  others  in  deeds.  Deborah  was  distinguished  in  both. 
Her  well-known  Song  stands  almost  by  itself.  Produced  at  least  eight  hundred  years  before 
Pindar,  it  surpasses  in  dignity,  fire,  and  pathos  every  other  ode,  ancient  or  modern,  and  yet  has 
a well-ordered  symmetry  and  beauty,  such  as  would  do  honor  to  the  most  cultivated  age. 
After  inviting  kings  and  princes  as  a fit  audience  for  such  a recital,  she  recalls  the  prodigies 
formerly  exhibited  : 

“ Lord,  when  thou  wentest  forth  out  of  Seir, 

When  thou  marchedst  out  of  the  field  of  Edom, 

The  earth  trembled,  the  heavens  also  dropped, 

Yea,  the  clouds  dropped  water. 

The  mountains  melted  at  the  presence  of  the  Lord, 

Even  that  Sinai,  at  the  presence  of  the  Lord,  the  God  of  Israel.” 


DEBORAH’S  SONG  OF  TRIUMPH 


JEPHTHAH  MET  BY  HIS  DAUGHTER. 


JUDGES  XI. 


The  plate  represents  one  of  the  most  pathetic  events  in  all  literature.  A daughter  seeking 
to  praise  and  congratulate  her  father,  unconsciously  becomes  the  means  of  plunging  him  into 
the  deepest  affliction. 

Jephthah,  a man  marked  with  a stain  by  his  birth,  having  been  driven  from  his  home,  went 
off  into  a neighboring  region,  where,  gathering  to  himself  a number  of  men  of  desperate  for- 
tunes, he  became  a sort  of  freebooter.  His  reputation  for  daring  and  skill  in  arms  induced  his 
countrymen,  when  contending  with  the  Ammonites,  to  send  for  him  to  be  their  leader,  offering 
to  make  him  head  over  all  the  inhabitants  of  Gilead.  He  accepted  their  offer,  but,  before  join- 
ing battle,  sent  a formal  demand  for  the  withdrawal  of  the  enemy,  and,  when  this  was  declined, 
renewed  the  demand,  with  an  elaborate  statement  of  its  grounds — a circumstance  which  shows 
that  he  could  not  have  been  the  wild,  lawless,  reckless  person  that  some  writers  have  imagined. 
The  king  of  the  Ammonites  refusing  to  yield,  Jephthah  proceeded  to  attack  him  ; but,  before 
doing  so,  made  a solemn  vow  that,  in  case  he  returned  successful,  he  would  offer  to  the  Lord 
whatever  came  forth  from  the  doors  of  his  house  to  meet  him.  He  was  successful,  and 
inflicted  a very  great  slaughter  upon  the  national  foes.  But  his  vow  had  a very  tragic  termi- 
nation. As  he  returned  to  his  house  his  daughter  came  out  to  meet  him  with  timbrels  and 
dances. 

The  illustration  represents  her  with  her  companions  engaged  in  the  joyful  celebration  of 
the  victory,  and  eager  to  welcome  him  by  whose  valor  and  skill  it  had  been  gained.  Nothing 
can  be  more  affecting  than  the  contrast  between  her  jubilant  ecstasy  and  the  dreadful  doom  to 
which  it  is  to  subject  her.  She  is  without  blame,  simply  indulging  the  natural  impulses  of  filial 
piety,  and  yet  this  very  song  of  triumph  renders  her  the  victim  of  her  father’s  rash  vow. 
Parallels  have  been  traced  in  the  Iphigenia  of  Homer  and  PEschylus,  and  in  the  Antigone  of 
Sophocles  ; but  these  classic  fables  lack  the  touching  element  in  this  narrative,  that  it  is  the 
maiden  herself  who  unwittingly  provokes  the  tragedy,  and  falls,  in  a moment,  from  the  height 
of  exultation  into  the  pit  of  despair. 


JEPHTHAH  MET  BY  HIS  DAUGHTER, 


JEPHTHAH’S  DAUGHTER  AND  HER  COMPANIONS. 

JUDGES  XI. 


For  man)’  centuries  it  was  an  almost  universal  opinion  that  the  daughter  of  Jephthah  was 
actually  slain  by  her  father’s  hand,  and  then  burned  as  a sacrifice.  But  this  conclusion  was 
so  horrible  that,  for  ages  past,  it  has  been  vehemently  contested,  and  many  still  hold  that, 
instead  of  being  sacrificed,  she  was  shut  up  in  a separate  house  and  kept  in  perpetual  celibacy. 
But  the  words  of  the  narrative  are  too  plain  to  admit  of  being  interpreted  in  this  way.  The 
father’s  vow  was  “to  offer  for  a burnt-offering;  ” whatever  met  him  on  his  return,  and  the  histo- 
rian  says  that  “ he  did  with  her  according  to  his  vow.”  But  neither  his  vow  nor  its  fulfillment 
were  agreeable  to  the  religion  which  Jephthah  acknowledged.  Human  sacrifices  were  expressly 
and  repeatedly  forbidden  in  the  Divine  Word,  and  the  practice  of  offering  them  was  one  of  the 
sins  for  which  the  Canaanites  were  destroyed.  There  was  no  excuse,  therefore,  for  the  great 
wrong  which  was  done  in  this  case. 

Yet  the  incident  illustrates  the  stern  resolution  of  the  father  and  the  heroic  submission  of 
the  daughter.  The  former  deliberately  renounced  the  hope  of  perpetuating  his  family,  and 
sacrificed  his  parental  feelings  in  order  to  keep  his  word  ; while  the  latter  seems  cheerfully  to 
have  accepted  her  terrible  fate,  in  view  of  the  victory  achieved  over  the  national  enemies.  All 
that  she  asked  was  a short  delay,  in  order  to  bewail  her  lot  in  the  gorges  of  the  mountains.  It 
is  as  thus  engaged  that  the  artist  represents  her,  in  his  sweet  and  mournful  picture,  in  which 
every  figure,  by  its  posture  and  expression,  forms  a vivid  contrast  to  the  preceding  illustration. 

The  sacrifice  of  the  young  maiden  was  not  the  slaughter  of  an  unwilling  victim,  as  when 
the  Gaul  and  the  Greek  were  buried  alive  in  the  Roman  Forum,  but  the  willing  offering  of  a 
devoted  heart  to  free,  as  she  supposed,  her  father  and  her  country  from  a terrible  obligation. 
Hence  the  exhibition  of  pure  obedience  and  overpowering  love  has  attracted  the  attention  of 
several  poets.  One  of  them,  Lord  Byron,  in  his  Hebrew  Melodies,  voices  the  thought  of  the 
generous  victim  in  these  stanzas,  addressed  to  her  father : 


“ Though  the  virgins  of  Salem  lament, 
Be  the  judge  and  the  hero  unbent ; 

I have  won  the  great  battle  for  thee, 
And  my  father  and  country  are  free. 


“ When  this  blood  of  thy  giving  has  gushed, 
When  the  voice  that  thou  lovest  is  hushed, 
Let  my  memory  still  be  thy  pride, 

And  forget  not  I smiled  as  I died.’’ 


JEPHTHAH’S  DAUGHTER  AND  HER  COMPANIONS. 


SAMSON  SLAYING  THE  LION. 


JUDGES  XIV. 


The  longest  and  the  deadliest  of  the  enemies  of  the  chosen  people  were  the  Philistines, 
who  occupied  the  strip  of  sea-coast  on  the  south-west  of  Canaan.  They  made  their  appearance 
at  the  close  of  the  period  of  the  Judges,  and  were  not  finally  extinguished  until  the  time  of 
Hezekiah.  They  were  rich  and  powerful,  and  bore  inveterate  hatred  toward  their  Israelitish 
neighbors.  The  weight  of  their  hostility  was  most  felt  by  the  small  tribe  of  Dan,  whose  terri- 
tory lay  between  them  and  the  hill-country,  and  it  was  out  of  this  tribe  that  the  deliverer 
came.  His  name  was  Samson. 

He  was  given  to  his  parents  at  a time  when  they  had  long  been  without  children,  and  the 
revelation  which  announced  his  comingf  declared  that  he  should  be  “ a Nazarite  unto  God  from 
the  womb,”  i.  e.,  separated  from  the  rest  of  the  nation  by  a peculiar  consecration.  No  razor 
should  come  upon  his  head,  neither  should  he  drink  wine  nor  strong  drink.  The  earlier 
Judges  had  been  prepared  to  a certain  extent  for  their  work  before  their  election,  as,  for  exam- 
ple, Jephthah  had  been  a successful  military  leader;  but  Samson  was  chosen  from  birth,  and 
grew  up  in  private  life.  The  others  wrought  their  deliverances  in  co-operation  with  the  rest  of 
the  people,  but  Samson  simply  with  his  own  right  arm.  He  alone,  without  an  army  and  with- 
out followers,  fought  and  delivered.  This  was  because  the  Lord  blessed  him,  and  not  because 
of  his  own  natural  force.  “ The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  began  to  move  him  at  times,”  as  he  grew 
up.  This  was  not  a demoniac  frenzy,  such  as  is  described  in  mythical  legends,  but  a divine 
impulse  manifesting  itself  in  deeds,  as,  with  the  prophets,  it  manifested  itself  in  words.  It 
always  has  a purpose,  and  that  purpose  is  one  connected  with  the  fortunes  of  the  covenant 
people.  Samson,  the  prodigy  of  strength,  has  his  Pagan  counterpart  in  Hercules  ; but  the 
moral  ends  of  the  two  heroes  are  as  far  apart  as  heaven  and  earth. 

The  illustration  sets  forth  the  first  occasion  in  which  Samson  displays  his  extraordinary 
force.  On  the  way  to  Timnath  a young  lion  roared  against  him,  and  Samson  had  no  com- 
panions, and,  as  we  are  told,  no  weapons.  Ordinarily  such  a meeting  could  have  but  one  termi- 
nation ; but,  in  this  case,  the  man  was  endowed  with  supernatural  power.  And  so  the  youth- 
ful hero  seized  the  furious  beast  and  rent  his  jaws  asunder  as  easily  as  one  would  have  rent  a 

kid  of  the  goats.  The  event  was  not  a mere  meaningless  marvel,  but  was  intended  partly  to 

* 

give  oc  casion  to  the  famous  riddle  which  led  to  such  sad  results  to  the  Philistines,  and  partly 
as  a preparation  of  the  young  man  for  his  subsequent  gigantic  feats  of  strength. 


SAMSON  SLAYING  THE  LION 


SAMSON  AND  DELILAH. 


JUDGES  XVI. 


Samson,  in  one  sense  the  strongest  of  men,  in  another  was  the  weakest.  The  physical  and 
the  moral  in  him  existed  in  an  inverse  ratio.  He  could  carry  off  the  huge  gates  of  a city,  or 
slay  a thousand  men  with  an  ass’s  jawbone,  but  he  could  not  resist  the  blandishments  of  a 
woman.  His  whole  history  is  inextricably  bound  up  with  adventures  in  connection  with  the 
sex,  and  always,  as  it  would  seem,  with  strange  women,  not  the  daughters  of  Israel.  Lirst  was 
the  Philistine  maiden  of  Timnath,  whom  he  married  and  lost,  and  who  caused  his  first  conflict 
with  the  national  foes  ; then  the  courtesan  of  Gaza,  who  led  to  his  extraordinary  exploit  in  car- 
rying away  the  gates  of  the  city  ; and,  finally,  the  well-known  Delilah,  of  the  valley  of  Sorek, 
by  whom  his  downfall  was  accomplished. 

She  appears  to  have  been  of  great  personal  beauty,  but  utterly  mercenary  ; and  Samson’s 
entanglement  with  her  admits  of  no  excuse.  He  was  no  longer  young,  and  ought  to  have 
been  superior  to  the  ordinary  snares  of  sensuality.  But  he  was  a mere  simpleton  in  these  mat- 
ters, and  went  after  Delilah  “ as  an  ox  goeth  to  the  slaughter,”  with  brutish  unconsciousness  of 
his  folly  and  sin  and  danger.  Even  after  repeated  evidence  of  her  treachery,  still  he  could 
not  tear  himself  from  her  company,  and  at  last  she  succeeded. 

The  great  desire  of  the  Philistines  was  to  ascertain  the  secret  of  his  strength.  Samson 
was  no  giant  like  the  heathen  Cyclops,  else  they  would  have  been  at  no  loss  to  explain  his 
strength  ; nor  were  his  shoulders  sixty  ells  apart,  as  the  Rabbins  say.  d hey,  doubtless,  sup- 
posed that  there  was  some  occult  magical  charm  by  which  he  accomplished  his  exploits,  and 
that,  if  they  could  discover  this,  means  could  be  taken  to  render  it  powerless.  I hey  offered 
Delilah  a liberal  sum  (equal  to  many  thousand  dollars  of  the  money  of  our  time)  if  she  would 
ascertain  the  secret,  so  as  to  enable  them  to  subdue  their  enemy.  She  accepted  the  proposal, 
and  began  to  work  upon  the  affections  of  her  lover.  At  first  he  amused  himself  with  her 
attempts,  and  three  several  times  mocked  her  and  her  employers  by  suggesting  methods  which 
he  knew  would  be  vain.  Delilah  redoubled  her  entreaties,  and  vexed  him  “ almost  to  death, 
and  at  last  succeeded,  fust  here  is  the  juncture  represented  in  the  illustration.  The  temp- 
tress stands  by  him  in  all  her  personal  fascination,  with  folded  hands  and  an  air  of  meek  and 
quiet  expectation,  while  he  looks  up  at  her,  holding  in  one  hand  those  locks  which  were  the 
cause  of  his  extraordinary  feats.  This  they  were  not  by  any  incantation  or  charm,  but  simply 
as  the  symbol  of  entire  consecration  to  God. 


SAMSON  AND  DELILAH 


NAOMI  AND  HER  DAUGHTERS-IN-LAW. 


RUTH  I. 


The  little  book  of  Ruth  has  justly  been  compared  to  one  of  the  beds  of  wild  flowers,  exqui- 
site in  beauty  and  variety  of  hue,  which  are  found  in  every  part  of  Palestine.  It  is  an  interest- 
ing contrast  to  the  book  of  Judges,  which  immediately  precedes  it  in  our  Canon  ; and  to  pass 
from  one  to  the  other  is  like  a transition  from  the  dark,  terrific  scenes  of  a tragedy  of  Mischy- 
lus  to  the  fresh  and  beautiful  landscapes  of  a pastoral  idyl  of  Theocritus.  Every  part  of  it 
breathes  the  spirit  of  repose  and  love.  It  is,  moreover,  a testimony  to  the  humane  and  com- 
prehensive aim  underlying  the  Mosaic  institutions.  Israel  was  indeed  a people  that  dwelt 
alone.  It  was  rigidly  secluded  from  the  rest  of  the  world  in  order  that  the  chosen  seed  might 
be  kept  pure  until  the  time  came  for  a universal  dispensation.  Yet  there  are  constant  intima- 
tions, in  word  and  in  act,  that  there  was  hope  for  the  outside  nations.  And  here  we  have  an 
account  of  the  way  in  which  a daughter  of  the  uncircumcised  Moabites  was  introduced  into  the 
fellowship  of  the  people  of  God,  and  became  a member  of  the  line  from  which  sprang  the  most 
illustrious  of  Israel’s  kings. 

Elimelech,  driven  by  famine,  emigrated,  with  his  wife  and  two  sons,  from  Bethlehem  to  the 
fields  of  Moab,  where  his  sons  intermarried  with  women  of  the  country.  But  misfortune  fol- 
lowed the  household.  First  Elimelech  died,  and  then  both  of  his  sons.  At  the  end  of  ten 
years  Naomi  was  left  with  her  two  daughters-in-law.  Learning  that  the  famine  had  ceased  in 
her  native  land,  she  proposed  to  return  thither,  and  the  younger  women  set  out  to  accompany 
her.  But  on  the  way  the  mother,  while  acknowledging  all  their  kindness  to  the  dead  and  to 
herself,  bade  them  return  home,  where  better  prospects  awaited  them  than  any  she  could  offer. 
One  of  them,  Orpah,  complied  with  the  suggestion,  and  turned  back  weeping.  The  other 
refused  and  clave  to  Naomi.  This  is  the  scene  the  picture  sets  forth  : Orpah  turning  away, 
with  her  hands  to  her  face,  but  Ruth  clineing-,  with  intense  affection,  to  her  husband’s  mother. 
When  Naomi  bade  her  imitate  the  example  of  her  sister-in-law,  she  refused  in  words  which 
have  become  classic  as  the  utterance  of  an  intense  and  sacred  affection.  “Urge  me  not  to 
leave  thee,  or  to  return  from  following  thee:  for  whither  thou  goest,  I will  go;  and  where  thou 
lodgest,  I will  lodge  : thy  people  shall  be  my  people,  and  thy  God  my  God  : where  thou  diest, 
I will  die,  and  there  will  I be  buried  : the  Lord  do  so  to  me,  and  more  also,  if  aught  but  death 
part  thee  and  me.”  Intense  as  is  the  love  here  shown,  it  is  purely  moral  and  spiritual. 
Neither  self-interest,  nor  hope,  nor  vanity  mix  themselves  up  with  it. 


NAUM  I AND  HER  DAUGHTERS-IN-LAW. 


RUTH  AND  BOAZ. 


RUTH  II. 


This  picture  represents  a scene  which  occurred  very  soon  after  the  two  women  came 
back  to  Bethlehem.  Naomi  had  returned,  as  she  said,  “ empty,”  without  friends  and  without 
means.  In  her  destitution,  Ruth,  as  the  younger  and  better  able  to  bear  fatigue,  proposed  to 
ofo  and  o-lean  in  the  harvest-field  what  might  serve  for  their  needs.  Naomi  consented,  and  the 
young  stranger  went  forth  to  gather  that  which,  according  to  the  beneficent  law  of  Israel 
(Lev.  xxiii.  22  ; Deut.  xxiv.  19),  was  left  for  the  stranger,  the  fatherless,  and  the  widow.  A 
kind  Providence  directed  her  steps  to  the  field  of  a wealthy  and  influential  citizen,  who  was 
also  a distant  relative  of  her  deceased  husband.  While  she  was  at  work,  the  proprietor,  Boaz, 
came  to  visit  the  reapers,  and  exchanged  with  them  the  beautiful  greetings  which,  in  their 
mouths,  were  more  than  a mere  form,  he  saying,  “The  Lord  be  with  you!”  and  they  reply- 
ing, “ The  Lord  bless  thee  !” 

But  soon  Boaz  observed  among  the  reapers  a new  form — one  distinguished  by  her  appear- 
ance and  bearing  as  a stranger — and  he  inquired  of  the  overseer  who  it  was.  The  overseer 
not  only  mentioned  her  name  and  origin,  but  also  her  propriety  of  conduct  and  her  diligence, 
since  she  had  been  almost  uninterruptedly  engaged  in  her  work  since  the  morning.  Boaz 
recalled  the  story,  which,  of  course,  he  must  have  heard,  of  the  young  Moabitess  who  had  for- 
saken home  and  friends  in  order  to  attach  herself  to  Naomi  and  Naomi’s  God.  It  is  this  point 
which  the  artist  has  chosen  to  represent.  The  beautiful  maiden  stoops  in  the  foreground, 
gathering  the  scattered  stalks,  and  the  reapers  are  carrying  away  the  bundles,  while  Boaz  is 
standing  near,  in  conversation  with  the  overseer.  In  the  background  are  the  camels,  which 
made  the  train  of  the  wealthy  proprietor.  The  issue  of  the  interview  was  in  accordance  with 
its  commencement.  Boaz  not  only  permitted  her  to  continue  in  his  field,  but  charged  her  not 
to  go  elsewhere,  and  gave  directions  to  the  young  men  to  treat  her  courteously,  and  even  to  let 
fall,  occasionally,  something  from  the  bundles ‘for  her  to  glean.  Ultimately,  as  all  know,  Boaz 
and  Ruth  were  united  in  marriage,  and  became  progenitors  of  our  Lord.  And  although  one 
was  a child  of  Moab,  it  may  well  be  doubted  whether  the  whole  tribe  of  Judah  could  furnish  a 
pair  more  worthy  to  receive  that  honor,  each  of  them  being  conspicuous  for  every  social  and 
domestic  virtue. 


RUTH  AND  BOAZ 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  ARK. 


i SAMUEL  VI. 


This  striking  illustration  exhibits  a party  of  reapers  interrupted  in  their  work  and 
thoroughly  surprised  by  the  vision  of  the  Ark  of  the  Covenant  in  the  distance,  coming  toward 
them  in  a cart  drawn  by  lowing  kine,  without  a driver.  1 he  varied  postures  of  the  persons  in 
the  foreground  indicate  a pleased  astonishment. 

The  explanation  is  this  : Several  months  before,  the  Israelites  having  been  defeated  in  bat- 
tle by  the  Philistines,  instead  of  humbling  themselves  before  Gocl,  and  thus  securing  his  favor, 
sent  for  the  ark  to  go  with  them  to  the  conflict,  in  the  superstitious  belief  that  the  mere 
presence  of  an  object  so  sacred  would  secure  them  success.  But  God  rebuked  their  super- 
stition by  sending  another  defeat,  and  allowing  the  ark  itself  to  be  captured.  The  Philistines 
were  delighted  with  their  success,  and  carried  the  ark  off  as  a distinguished  trophy.  But  they 
soon  found  that  their  gain  was  a loss.  A fearful  disease  smote  the  people.  Wherever  they 
took  the  ark — to  Ashdod,  to  Gath,  to  Ekron — the  same  result  followed.  The  hand  of  God 
was  heavy  upon  both  small  and  great,  and  there  was  a deadly  destruction.  In  their  terror  they 
determined  to  send  the  cause  of  their  trouble  back  to  its  original  place.  To  satisfy  themselves 
that  this  was  the  right  course,  they  put  it  upon  a new  cart,  together  with  certain  golden  offer- 
ings, and  then  attached  the  cart  to  a yoke  of  milch  kine,  whose  calves  were  shut  up  at  home  ; 
reasoning  that  if  the  dumb  beasts,  contrary  to  what  would  be  their  natural  course,  took  the 
road  toward  Israel,  it  might  be  assumed  that  the  ark  was  the  cause  of  their  troubles.  The 
experiment  succeeded  perfectly.  The  kine  followed  a straight  course  to  Bethshemesh,  turning 
neither  to  the  riodrt  hand  nor  to  the  left. 

o 

This  was  the  sight,  represented  in  the  plate  as  surrounded  with  a blaze  of  radiance,  which 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  reapers,  and  filled  them  with  extreme  joy.  The  absence  of  the 
ark  was  a constant  source  of  humiliation  and  shame,  and  its  return,  in  such  an  extraordinary 
manner,  would,  of  course,  be  greeted  with  rapture. 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  ARK. 


SAUL  AND  DAVID. 


i SAMUEL  XVIII. 


The  scene  depicted  is  the  first  expression  of  what  became  the  master-passion  of  the  life  of 
Saul,  the  king  of  Israel.  He  was  envious  of  David,  and  determined  to  get  him  out  of  the  way. 
The  occasion  of  this  feeling  was  very  simple.  After  the  successful  campaign  against  the  Phi- 
listines, the  troops  engaged  returned  in  triumph  to  the  cities  of  Israel.  They  were  met,  gener- 
ally, at  the  gates  by  companies  of  women,  who,  playing  on  the  tabret  and  dancing  to  their  own 
music,  chanted  in  responsive  chorus  rhythmic  lines  adapted  to  the  occasion.  At  the  end  of 
every  strophe  came  this  refrain,  “ Saul  hath  slain  his  thousands,  and  David  his  tens  of  thou- 
sands.” Very  likely  nothing  more  was  meant  by  this  than  an  expression  of  joy,  with  such 
exaggeration  as  strong  emotion  is  always  prone  to  indulge  in.  But  the  sensitive  soul  of  Saul, 
the  more  inclined  to  be  suspicious  since  Samuel  had  foretold  the  taking  of  the  kingdom  from 
him,  took  offense  at  the  implied  preference  of  David,  and  he  murmured,  “ 1 hey  have  ascribed 
unto  David  ten  thousands,  and  to  me  but  thousands ; and  what  can  he  have  more  but  the  king- 
dom?” The  thought  was  gall  and  wormwood  to  his  heart,  and  the  next  day,  instead  of  being 
soothed  by  the  music  of  David’s  harp,  he  aimed  a javelin  at  the  head  of  the  musician,  who 
escaped  only  by  dexterously  evading  its  point. 


SAUL  AMD  DAVID. 


DAVID  SPARING  SAUL. 


i SAMUEL  XXIV. 


We  have  the  same  parties  in  this  as  in  the  preceding  illustration,  but  the  circumstances  are 
widely  different.  There  Saul  was  seeking  David’s  life  ; here  David  generously  forbears  to 
take  Saul’s.  The  case  was  this  : The  king,  learning  that  David  had  gone  to  Engedi,  pursued 
him  at  the  head  of  three  thousand  men,  but,  singularly  enough,  fell  entirely  into  his  power. 
Seeking  relief  from  the  mid-day  heat  he  went  into  the  very  cave  where  David  and  his  men  were 
concealed.  David’s  companions  regarded  the  occurrence  as  a providential  opportunity  for  end- 
ing the  strife  by  putting  Saul  to  death.  But  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  consider  it  in  that 
light.  He  would  bide  God’s  time,  and  not  allow  it  to  be  said  of  him  that  he  had  come  into  the 
kingdom  by  the  assassination  of  his  predecessor.  So  he  contented  himself  by  cutting  off  a por- 
tion of  Saul’s  robe,  which  he  could  easily  do  without  disturbing  the  monarch’s  repose.  When 
the  king  rose  and  passed  out  to  join  his  troops,  David  followed  him,  and  cried  out,  “ My  lord 
the  king,”  and  having  arrested  his  attention,  made  an  earnest  protestation  of  his  innocence  of 
any  evil  design,  and,  as  proof  of  it,  pointed  to  the  skirt  which  he  held  in  his  hand,  which  he  had 
taken  from  his  robe  when  he  might  just  as  easily  have  taken  off  his  head.  Saul  was  appar- 
ently melted  in  contrition,  and  drew  off  his  men  ; but  David  was  unwilling  to  trust  himself  to 
the  keeping  of  one  so  impulsive  and  suspicious,  and  returned  to  the  cave.  The  interview  left 
them  both  as  it  had  found  them.  But  David  had  furnished  a signal  example  of  self-control 
and  forbearance,  and  Saul  had  rejected  another  inducement  to  forsake  his  malicious  perse- 
cution. 

The  striking  scene  is  well  presented  in  the  illustration.  There  are  very  many  places  in 
Palestine  where  men  converse  easily  across  a deep  gorge  which  it  would  take  hours  to  go 
around.  The  artist,  therefore,  has  placed  the  king,  with  his  serried  host,  on  the  top  of  a pre- 
cipitous cliff,  while  David  stands  on  a lesser  elevation  behind,  attended  only  by  his  few  follow- 
ers. Holding  up  the  fragment  of  the  royal  garment,  he  cries,  “ My  father,  see  ; yea,  see  the 
skirt  of  thy  robe  in  my  hand  : for  in  that  I cut  off  the  skirt  of  thy  robe,  and  killed  thee  not, 
know  thou  and  see  that  there  is  neither  evil  nor  transgression  in  mine  hand,  and  I have  not 
sinned  against  thee  ; yet  thou  huntest  my  soul  to  take  it.” 


DAVID  SPARING  SAIJ1 


DEATH  OF  SAUL. 


i SAMUEL  XXXI. 


Never  did  the  promise  of  a fair  and  noble  life  ripen  into  such  bitter  fruit  as  in  the  case  of 
Israel’s  first  king.  He  seemed  to  tower  as  much  above  the  rest  of  the  nation  in  intellect,  heart, 
and  will  as  he  did  in  stature.  But  self-will  and  disobedience  drew  down  upon  him  the  frown 
of  Jehovah,  and  thenceforward  his  life  was  one  of  constant  moral  deterioration.  His  splendid 
opportunities  and  ample  resources  were  all  thrown  away.  He  went  from  bad  to  worse,  until  at 
the  end  he  committed  a sin,  the  thought  of  which  would  once  have  made  him  shudder,  and 
which  he  had  severely  punished  in  others.  When  about  to  join  battle  in  the  plain  of  Esdra- 
elon,  where  so  often  the  fate  of  Palestine  has  been  decided  by  arms,  he  found  no  helper  any- 
where. As  he  said,  “ The  Philistines  make  war  against  me,  and  God  is  departed  from  me  and 
answereth  me  no  more,  neither  by  prophets  nor  by  dreams.”  In  his  perplexity  he  resorted  to 
necromancy,  just  as  all  who  forsake  the  true  religion  generally  fall  into  superstition.  In  this 
case,  however,  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  use  the  sorcery  of  the  woman  of  Endor,  not  to  guide 
or  comfort  the  sorrow-stricken  king,  but  to  forewarn  him  of  his  impending  doom.  The 
unhappy  king,  hearing  the  fearful  words,  fell  his  whole  length  on  the  ground  and  was  sore 
afraid,  and  there  was  no  strength  left  in  him.  But  he  made  out,  at  last,  to  return  to  his  camp. 

The  next  day  the  Philistines  charged  the  Israelite  army  and  drove  them  up  the  heights  of 
Gilboa.  Here  a great  multitude  was  slain,  and  among  them  the  three  eldest  sons  of  Saul. 
Amidst  the  shower  of  Philistine  archers,  or  hard-pressed  by  their  charioteers,  Saul  was  sore 
wounded,  and,  dreading  to  fall  alive  into  the  hands  of  his  foes,  besought  his  armor-bearer  to 
dispatch  him  at  once.  He  refused,  and  then  Saul  fell  upon  his  sword  and  died.  And  his  ser- 
vant followed  his  example.  The  artist  represents  the  scene  as  it  was  accomplished : the 
victims  of  madness  and  despair  lying  pierced  by  their  own  weapons,  while  the  foes  are  dashing 
over  the  hill. 

Saul  fell  with  all  his  sins  upon  his  head — his  last  act  a sin  ; but  his  generous  rival,  David, 
celebrated  the  sad  event  in  a beautiful  ode  which  has  been  admired  in  every  age.  To  this  day, 
when  a great  man  is  carried  to  his  tomb,  the  most  appropriate  music  for  the  occasion  is  found 
in  the  exquisite  composition  which  seeks  to  express,  in  sound,  this  lament  of  David,  and  which 
is  known  is  “ The  Dead  March  in  Saul.” 


DEATH  OF  SAUL. 


THE  DEATH  OF  ABSALOM. 


2 SAMUEL  XVIII. 


The  third  son  of  David  reminds  every  reader  of  the  handsome,  dissolute,  and  unprin- 
cipled Alcibiades  of  Greek  history.  Absalom  was  highly  favored  in  every  way,  yet  came 
to  a shameful  end.  In  personal  appearance  he  was  the  very  flower  and  pride  of  the  whole 
nation.  “In  all  Israel  there  was  none  to  be  so  much  praised  as  Absalom  for  his  beauty; 
from  the  sole  of  his  foot  even  to  the  crown  of  his  head  there  was  no  blemish  in  him.”  In 
addition  to  this  he  had  a pleasing  address,  quick  perception,  and  decided  force  of  will. 
Offended  at  his  father  for  severity  of  treatment  for  his  own  misconduct,  and  animated  by  a 
criminal  ambition,  he  determined  to  seize  the  crown.  To  this  end  he  practiced  all  the  arts  of 
an  accomplished  demagogue,  courting  the  favor  of  the  people  and  undermining  the  authority 
of  the  king.  At  length,  after  years  of  preparation,  he  set  up  his  standard  in  Hebron,  won  to 
his  side  David’s  confidential  counselor,  the  wise  Ahithophel,  and  gathered  his  adherents  from 
all  quarters.  When  the  news  of  this  formidable  revolt  came  to  the  ears  of  the  king  he  fled 
from  his  capital  in  haste  and  distress,  and  made  good  his  escape  to  Mahanaim,  beyond  Jordan. 

Absalom,  meanwhile,  entered  Jerusalem  in  triumph,  and  assumed  all  royal  rights,  some 
of  them  in  a very  offensive  manner.  He  was,  however,  cunningly  induced,  by  a secret  friend 
of  David,  not  to  pursue  his  father  at  once  and  end  the  contest  by  a decided  stroke,  but  to  wait 
until  all  his  troops  were  gathered.  This  delay  gave  David  opportunity  to  collect  his  friends 
and  make  a firm  stand  for  his  crown,  so  that  when  Absalom  crossed  the  Jordan  there  was  a 
large  and  well-appointed  force  to  meet  him.  This  force  was  committed  to  three  trusted  lead- 
ers, with  the  command  to  deal  gently  with  Absalom.  Battle  was  joined  in  the  wood  of  Eph- 
raim, and  David’s  troops  were  successful.  Absalom  sought  to  escape  by  flight,  but  in  the 
effort  came  to  his  death  in  the  singular  method  shown  in  the  illustration.  As  he  rode  through 
the  wood  he  was  caught  by  the  head — possibly  entangled  by  his  long  hair— in  the  boughs  of 
an  overhanging  tree,  and  his  mule  passed  from  under  him.  In  this  position  he  was  found  by 
Joab,  who,  forming  a circle  of  his  ten  attendants  around  the  tree,  pierced  his  heart  with  three 
darts.  His  body  was  then  thrown  into  a huge  pit  and  covered  with  a heap  of  stones,  like 
those  which  used  to  be  formed  over  the  graves  of  grievous  malefactors.  And  this  was  the 
shameful  end  and  dishonored  grave  of  a king’s  son,  the  best-looking  and  most  popular  man  of 
his  generation  ; this  the  deserved  recompense  of  bitter  revenge,  boundless  self-will,  and  filial 
ingratitude. 


igliiifi 


il®S 


ia 


jFTrf'/vWri 


THE  DEATH  OF  ABSALOM. 


DAVID  MOURNING  OVER  ABSALOM. 


2 SAMUEL  XVIII. 


While  the  battle  in  the  wood  of  Ephraim  was  going  on,  David  remained  in  the  place 
where  he  had  parted  from  his  troops  in  the  morning.  All  day  long  he  waited  for  intelligence  ; 
and  as  he  sat  watching,  his  throne,  his  people,  his  life,  were  all  forgotten  in  his  eager  concern 
for  Absalom.  To  each  messenger  that  comes  he  puts  the  same  inquiry,  “ Is  the  young  man 
safe  ?”  And  when  the  sad  truth  comes  out,  he  forgets  his  own  deliverance,  forgets  gratitude, 
submission,  and  faith,  and  goes  up  to  his  chamber  with  a great  and  exceeding  bitter  cry,  “O 
my  son  Absalom  ! my  son,  my  son  Absalom  ! would  God  I had  died  for  thee,  O Absalom,  my 
son,  my  son  ! ” 

1 he  clasped  hands  of  the  central  figure  in  the  picture,  and  the  averted  face,  well  express 
the  father’s  agony,  at  which  the  attendants  gaze  in  consternation.  David’s  passionate  burst  of 
grief  had  ample  reason.  When  Bathsheba’s  infant  died  he  could  say,  “ I shall  go  to  him,”  but 
no  such  assurance  is  possible  here.  Absalom’s  sun  had  gone  down  in  thickest  darkness,  d o 
his  father  there  remained  a bitter  remembrance — a life-long  sorrow.  How  many  fathers  since 
have,  by  a foolish  indulgence  of  their  children,  or  by  an  unreasonable  rigor,  laid  up  for  them- 
selves an  equal  and  remediless  grief ! 


DAVID  MOURNING  OVER  ABSALOM 


SOLOMON. 


This  imposing  figure  represents  the  wisest  of  men  in  the  ripe  maturity  of  his  days.  He 
excelled  all  that  went  before  him,  as  well  as  all  that  came  after  him,  in  riches,  honor,  and 
power.  His  peaceful  empire  extended  from  the  river  of  Egypt  to  the  Euphrates,  and  he  held 
a port  at  the  head  of  the  Red  Sea,  whence  there  was  extensive  commerce  to  the  east  and  to 
the  west.  These  wide  territories  brought  in  an  ample  revenue,  so  that  the  precious  metals  and 
sparkling  gems  abounded  on  every  hand.  This  led  to  a display  which  became  proverbial. 
Our  Saviour  uses  the  phrase,  “ Solomon  in  all  his  glory,”  as  a term  of  comparison,  for  there 
was  none  more  expressive.  Solomon’s  buildings,  his  court,  his  porch,  his  throne,  his  banquets, 
his  gardens,  his  chariots,  even  his  stables,  were  all  on  the  most  magnificent  scale. 

But  the  artist,  in  the  picture  before  us,  seems  to  leave  all  these  external  things  out  of  view. 
Nothing  indicates  them  save,  perhaps,  the  columns  and  the  architrave  of  the  apartment  where 
the  king  sits.  But  the  roll  in  one  hand,  and  the  pen,  or  stylus,  in  the  other,  bring  up  to  view 
the  extensive  authorship  ascribed  to  him.  Songs,  proverbs,  and  treatises  came  from  his  fruit- 
ful genius  in  abundance  ; and  what  is  preserved  in  the  canonical  Scriptures  is  only  a portion  of 
the  literature  he  produced. 


SOLOMON 


THE  JUDGMENT  OF  SOLOMON. 


i KINGS  III. 


In  Solomon’s  youth  the  Lord  appeared  to  him  in  a dream  by  night,  and  bade  him  ask  what 
God  should  give  him.  The  young  monarch  said,  “ Give  thy  servant  an  understanding  heart  to 
judge  thy  people,  that  I may  discern  between  good  and  bad  : for  who  is  able  to  judge  this  thy 
so  great  a people?”  One  would  think  that  he  must  have  been  already  very  wise  to  make  such 
a choice.  The  Lord  assured  him  that  his  request  was  granted,  and  at  an  early  period  he  had 
a proof  of  it  in  the  extraordinary  scene  exhibited  in  this  picture.  Two  mothers  came  before 
him  with  a dead  child  and  a living  one,  each  claiming  that  the  living  child  was  hers  and  the 
dead  one  the  other’s. 

“Then  said  the  king,  The  one  saith,  This  is  my  son  that  liveth,  and  thy  son  is  the  dead  : 
and  the  other  saith,  Nay  ; but  thy  son  is  the  dead,  and  my  son  is  the  living.  And  the  king 
said,  Bring  me  a sword.  And  they  brought  a sword  before  the  king.  And  the  king  said, 
Divide  the  living  child  in  two,  and  give  half  to  the  one,  and  half  to  the  other.  Then  spake  the 
woman  whose  the  living  child  was,  unto  the  king,  for  her  bowels  yearned  upon  her  son,  and 
she  said,  O my  lord,  give  her  the  living  child,  and  in  no  wise  slay  it.  But  the  other  said,  Let 
it  be  neither  mine  nor  thine,  but  divide  it.  Then  the  king  answered  and  said,  Give  her  the  liv- 
ing child,  and  in  no  wise  slay  it : she  is  the  mother  thereof.  And  all  Israel  heard  of  the  judg- 
ment which  the  king  had  judged  ; and  they  feared  the  king  : for  they  saw  that  the  wisdom  of 
God  was  in  him,  to  do  judgment.” 

The  artist  has  conveyed  very  justly  the  sentiment  of  the  occasion.  The  youthful  king,  in 
his  official  robes,  stands,  with  uplifted  hand,  announcing  his  wise  decision — a keen-sighted 
appeal  to  the  instincts  of  nature.  The  executioner,  with  drawn  sword  in  one  hand  and  the  liv- 
ing child  in  the  other,  has  his  face  turned  to  the  monarch  as  if  seeking  to  know  whether  the 
decision  is  final.  The  false  mother  stands  by,  indifferent,  or  rather  well-pleased,  at  the  result  I 
but  the  other  feels  the  yearnings  of  her  maternal  heart,  and  falls  down  imploringly,  expressing 
in  every  line  of  the  figure  anxious  desire. 

There  is  an  oriental  tradition  that  Solomon  once  peaceably  adjudicated  between  two  claim- 
ants to  the  same  treasure  by  determining  that  the  son  of  the  one  should  marry  the  daughter  of 
the  other  But  this  story  falls  far  short  of  the  one  described  in  the  picture. 


THE  JUDGMENT  OE  SOLOMON. 


THE  CEDARS  DESTINED  FOR  THE  TEMPLE. 


i KINGS  V. 


In  the  magnificent  Hymn  of  Creation,  the  104th  Psalm,  the  writer,  among  the  specific  illus- 
trations of  divine  wisdom  and  power,  cites  the  trees  of  the  forest.  Of  these  he  selects  a single 
species  as  pre-eminent : 

“ The  trees  of  the  Lord  are  satisfied  (with  moisture), 

The  cedars  of  Lebanon,  which  he  hath  planted.” 

The  reasons  of  the  selection  are  not  far  to  seek.  No  other  tree  of  Palestine  is  so  large  and 
stately  and  durable  and  variously  useful.  Besides  being  an  ornament  to  any  landscape,  the 
cedar  could  be  fashioned  into  the  mast  of  a ship,  or  the  beams  of  a house,  or  the  ceiling  of  a 
temple,  or  a coffer  for  merchandise.  It  was  the  wood  chiefly  employed  in  the  construction  of 
the  first  temple  and  the  second  ; in  both  cases  obtained  from  the  Tyrians,  by  whom  it  was 
floated  down  to  Joppa,  and  thence  carried  overland  to  Jerusalem.  And  when  Herod  made 
those  repairs  and  enlargements  which  were  almost  equivalent  to  a third  temple,  the  stone  he 
used  was  white  marble,  but  the  wood  was  cedar,  from  the  forests  of  Lebanon.  And  to-day  the 
modern  visitor  to  the  Haram,  at  Jerusalem,  as  he  walks  down  the  nave  of  the  Church  of  the 
Virgin,  long  since  converted  by  Mohammedans  into  the  Mosque  of  El  Aksa,  sees  overhead  a 
carved  ceiling  of  red  wood  which  had  the  same  orimn. 

Formerly  cedars  existed  in  great  abundance,  and  vast  forests  covered  the  sides  of  the  twin 
ranges  of  Lebanon,  but  these  have  long  since  disappeared.  Still  there  are  found,  in  different 
places,  groves  to  the  number  of  a dozen  or  more.  One  of  these,  on  the  western  slope  of  Leb- 
anon, technically  known  as  “ The  Cedars,”  is  always  visited  by  travelers,  as,  indeed,  it  deserves 
to  be,  in  view  of  the  number  of  the  trees,  their  enormous  size,  and  their  extreme  antiquity. 
One  who  has  seen  them  finds  the  sketch  in  the  illustration  very  life-like.  The  varied  groups 
of  busy  workmen  give  great  animation  to  the  scene.  Some  are  drawing  down  with  ropes 
gigantic  trunks,  which  have  been  sawn  through  near  the  ground.  Others  are  hewing  and  trim- 
ming those  which  lie  prostrate.  In  the  foreground  two  wains,  with  large,  awkward  wheels,  are 
loaded  with  huge  trees  and  drawn  by  long  trains  of  horses,  which  the  drivers  are  guiding  as 
circumstances  require,  while  the  mounted  inspectors  are  giving  their  orders,  and  groups  of 
laborers  are  watching  the  progress  of  the  work.  The  picture  is  crowded  with  figures,  but  not 
confused,  and  it  represents  what  must  have  occurred  time  and  again  in  the  forest  slopes  of  the 
White  Mountain,  Lebanon. 


THE  PROPHET  SLAIN  BY  A LION. 


i KINGS  XIII. 


The  incident  to  which  this  picture  refers  is  a part  of  the  first  prophetic  protest  made 
against  the  idolatrous  worship  instituted  by  Jeroboam,  at  Bethel.  While  the  king,  in  his  royal 
state,  was  offering  incense  on  the  altar  he  had  erected  to  the  golden  calf,  there  suddenly  rose 
before  him  a prophet  to  whom  the  sacred  book  gives  no  name.  He  had  come  from  Judah  for 
this  special  purpose.  He  was  not  to  receive  hospitality,  going  or  returning.  He  was  not  even 
to  address  the  king,  but  the  altar,  the  dumb  monument  of  division  and  sin.  “ O altar,  altar, 
thus  saith  the  Lord.”  What  the  Lord  said  was  that  the  priests  of  this  altar  should  one  day  be 
offered  upon  it  by  a child  of  the  house  of  Judah.  The  king  in  anger,  with  outstretched  hand, 
ordered  his  arrest  ; but,  behold  ! his  hand  withered  so  that  he  could  not  draw  it  in  to  him,  and 
he  was  compelled  to  ask  the  prophet  to  entreat  the  Lord  to  restore  his  hand.  The  request 
was  complied  with  and  the  hand  restored.  The  prophet  then,  according  to  his  orders,  set  out 
at  once  to  return  home,  without  eating  or  drinking. 

But  an  old  prophet  residing  at  Bethel  went  after  him,  and,  by  falsely  pretending  a divine 
communication  to  that  effect,  persuaded  the  stranger  to  return  to  Bethel,  and  eat  and  drink 
with  him.  But,  while  they  were  sitting  at  the  table,  behold  the  old  prophet  announced  to  his 
visitor  a true  message  from  God,  that,  for  his  disobedience,  he  should  not  be  buried  in  the 
sepulcher  of  his  fathers.  And  so  it  came  to  pass.  As  he  journeyed  a lion  met  him  and  slew 
him,  and  then  stood  by  the  carcass,  just  as  the  illustration  represents,  only  the  artist  has  neg- 
lected to  put  the  ass  in.  The  narrative  states  that  the  lion  waited  quietly,  disturbing  neither 
the  ass  nor  any  that  passed  by  the  way.  He  did  the  work  he  was  appointed  to  do,  and  that 
only,  nor  did  he  hinder  the  old  prophet  when  he  came  and  took  up  the  body  to  carry  it  to  the 
city  for  burial. 

Thus  was  emphasized,  in  a most  remarkable  way,  the  prediction  against  the  altar  at  Bethel. 
If  God  was  so  prompt  and  severe  against  his  own  chosen  servants  when  they  disobeyed  his 
commands,  how  much  more  would  he  be  against  those  whose  apostasy  was  open  and  manifold, 
establishing  an  idolatrous  worship  of  the  most  debased  and  debasing  character,  and  violating 
both  the  letter  and  spirit  of  the  command  which  was  thundered  from  Sinai  and  written  on  a 
tablet  of  stone  by  the  finger  of  God  ? 


THE  PROPHET  SLAIN  BY  A LION, 


ELIJAH  DESTROYING  THE  MESSENGERS  OF  AHAZIAH. 


2 KINGS  I. 


It  Is  related  in  the  Gospel  of  Luke  (ix.  51-56)  that  on  a certain  occasion,  when  the  Lord 
Jesus,  on  his  way  from  Galilee  to  Jerusalem,  desired  to  pass  through  a village  of  the  Samari- 
tans, he  was  refused  permission,  whereupon  James  and  John  asked  if  he  wished  them  to  call 
down  fire  from  heaven  upon  these  offenders,  even  as  Elijah  did.  But  he  rebuked  them.  His 
mission  was  not  to  destroy,  but  to  save.  Forbearance  belonged  to  his  present  course,  judg- 
ment being  reserved  for  the  future.  The  case  to  which  the  impetuous  disciples  referred  was 
the  one  set  forth  in  this  picture. 

King  Ahaziah,  having  sent  messengers  to  consult  a Philistine  deity  whether  he  should 
recover  from  a disease  which  afflicted  him,  was  surprised  by  their  sudden  return.  They  had 
met  a man  who  sent  them  back  with  a rebuke  and  an  ominous  message.  The  king,  on  learn- 
ing the  description  of  the  strange  apparition,  perceived  that  it  could  be  only  Elijah,  the  Tish- 
bite,  the  prophet  of  whom  he  had  heard  from  his  father  and  his  grandfather.  So  he  sent  to 
arrest  him.  Troop  after  troop  came  against  the  solitary  man,  but  in  vain.  The  captain  of 
each  successive  fifty  summoned  him  to  descend  and  accompany  them  to  the  king,  but  the 
simple  answer  was,  “ If  I be  a man  of  God  | as  you  call  me  and  yet  seek  to  lay  violent  hands 
upon  me],  let  fire  come  down  from  heaven  and  consume  thee  and  thy  fifty."  Even  as  the 
prophet  spake  the  heavens  opened  and  down  came  the  fiery  shower.  There  was  no  delay,  and 
no  escape.  The  confused  forms  of  horses  and  men,  in  the  illustration,  well  express  the  wild 
dismay  which  must  have  seized  the  troops  when  overtaken  by  the  bolt  from  heaven.  Twice 
was  the  terrible  infliction  sent,  before  the  soldiers  learned  the  folly  of  contending  with  God  or 
his  commissioned  messengers.  And  in  each  case  the  destruction  was  instantaneous  and  total. 

Such  a procedure  belonged  to  the  old  dispensation,  and  to  the  times  and  character  of 
Elijah.  He  was  a messenger  of  rebuke  and  repentance.  It  was  his  duty  to  sound  the  alarm 
and  display  the  fact  of  retribution.  But  the  Gospel  is  neither  in  the  hurricane,  nor  the  earth- 
quake, nor  in  the  fire,  but  in  the  still,  small  voice.  It  does  speak  of  wrath — even  that  most  ter- 
rible of  all  things,  the  wrath  of  the  Lamb — but  this  is  in  the  future.  For  the  present  its 
accents  are  all  of  love  and  mercy,  and  it  woos  men  by  invitations  and  promises,  and  God’s  sun 
shines  and  his  rain  descends  upon  the  evil  and  the  good,  the  just  and  the  unjust. 


ivLIJ AH  DESTROYING  THE  MESSENGERS  OK  AHAZIAH 


ELIJAH’S  ASCENT  IN  A CHARIOT  OF  FIRE. 


2 KINGS  II. 


Jesus,  the  son  of  Sirach,  said  of  Elijah  that  “he  rose  up  as  a fire,  and  his  word  blazed  as  a 
torch” — words  finely  descriptive  of  his  vehement  nature  and  brilliant  career.  He  was  the 
burning  and  shining  light  of  the  old  dispensation.  For  intense  action  and  concentrated  energy 
there  is  none  like  him.  Single-handed  he  confronted  king  and  queen,  a court  and  a nation. 
He  was  subject  to  like  passions  as  we  are,  yet,  when  he  prayed,  it  rained  not  for  three  years 
and  six  months,  and,  when  he  prayed  again,  the  heaven  gave  rain,  and  the  earth  brought  forth 
its  fruit  ( James  v.  17,  18).  At  his  call  fire  came  down  upon  Carmel  and  consumed  a sacrifice 
soaked  in  water ; and  afterward,  when  armed  bands  sought  to  lay  hands  upon  him,  once  and 
again  his  call  brought  forth  from  the  skies  fiery  thunderbolts  which  consumed  them  all.  When 
the  Lord  revealed  himself  to  him  in  the  awful  solitudes  of  .Sinai,  one  of  the  displays  was  a 
devouring  fire  like  that  which  enveloped  the  mount  in  the  day  the  law  was  given.  It  was 
fitting  that  a course  so  peculiar  and  wondrous  should  have  a termination  of  the  like  sort.  And 
it  had. 

The  narrative  of  the  sacred  historian  is  simple  but  effective.  Elijah  and  Elisha  were  walk- 
ing on  the  road  beyond  the  Jordan,  when  suddenly  there  appeared  a chariot  of  fire  and  horses 
of  fire,  and  parted  them  both  asunder,  and  Elijah  went  up  by  a whirlwind  into  heaven.  This 
is  the  scene  the  artist  has  essayed  to  represent  : the  sweeping  clouds,  the  winged  horses,  the 
prophet  with  outstretched  hand,  and  Elisha  fallen  in  amazement  at  the  thrilling  spectacle. 
And  so  the  heroic  man  disappeared  from  earth.  Like  Enoch,  he  was  not,  for  God  took  him. 
This  translation  was  the  completion  and  crown  of  the  heroic  and  saintly  life  which  had  pre- 
ceded it.  Yet  a thousand  years  after  his  entrance  into  heaven  he  once  more  appeared  on  earth. 
In  the  brilliant  transfiguration  of  our  Lord,  he,  with  Moses,  comes  to  meet  him  and  converse 
respecting  the  decease  he  was  to  accomplish  at  Jerusalem  (Luke  ix.  30).  As  the  great  law- 
giver, so  the  great  representative  of  the  prophets  comes  forth  to  do  honor  to  the  well-beloved 
Son  of  God. 


ELIJAH’S  ASCENT  IN  A CHARIOT  OF  FIRE. 


THE  DEATH  OF  JEZEBEL, 


2 KINGS  IX. 


The  principal  antagonist  of  Elijah  was  Ahab,  who  not  only  continued  the  calf-worship  in 
Israel,  but  excelled  all  his  predecessors  in  sin  by  enthroning  Baal  and  Ashtoreth,  Phoenician 
deities,  in  place  of  Jehovah.  In  this  deliberate  apostasy  he  was  seconded,  or  rather  prompted, 
by  his  wife  Jezebel,  a Tyrian  princess,  who  appears  to  have  been  to  him  what  Clytemnestra 
was  to  ZEgisthus,  or  Lady  Macbeth  to  her  husband.  Ahab  had  some  scruples  remaining,  and 
was  of  feebler  will  than  desire,  but  Jezebel  was  bold  and  unrelenting.  She  derided  the  weak- 
ness of  her  husband,  and  cared  nothing  for  perjury  or  murder  .to  secure  her  ends.  But  after 
she  had  put  Ahab  in  possession  of  the  dearly-gained  vineyard  of  Naboth,  the  prophet  declared 
“The  dogs  shall  eat  Jezebel  by  the  wall  of  Jezreel.”  Nothing  seemed  more  unlikely  to  be 
accomplished.  Yet  when  Jehu,  after  slaying  her  son,  drove  up  to  Jezreel,  and  was  addressed 
by  the  queen-mother  from  one  of  the  windows  of  the  palace,  he  called  upon  her  attendants  to 
throw  her  down.  He  was  obeyed,  as  is  represented  in  the  spirited  illustration.  She  was  cast 
forth,  and,  after  being  trampled  under  the  horses’  hoofs,  was  devoured  by  the  wild  dogs,  which 
are  seen  in  the  bottom  of  the  picture,  waiting  to  tear  her  in  pieces.  A bold,  bad  woman  came 
to  a fearful  but  merited  end. 


DEATH  OE  JEZEBEL. 


ESTHER  CONFOUNDING  HAMAN. 


ESTHER  VIII. 


Martin  Luther  once  said  that  he  wished  that  neither  Esther  nor  her  book  had  ever 
existed,  and  similar  opinions  have  been  uttered  by  others  in  later  times.  They  object  to  its 
exclusiveness,  its  spirit  of  revenge,  its  omission  of  the  name  of  God,  and  the  earthly  plane  on 
which  its  whole  action  moves.  But  it  is  certain,  as  has  often  been  said,  that  if  the  name  of 
God  is  not  there,  his  finger  is.  The  dullest  reader  who  connects  together  the  quarrel  of  Ahas- 
uerus,  the  sleepless  night,  and  the  long  delay  of  the  lot,  is  compelled  to  recognize  in  the  final 
result  the  work  of  a divine  Providence,  and  perhaps  the  more  distinctly  just  because  it  is  not 
thrust  upon  his  attention.  So  far  as  its  exclusiveness  is  concerned,  that  belongs  to  the  period 
when  the  facts  occurred.  And  the  revengeful  feeling  shown  is  a pattern  of  what  is  to  be 
avoided  rather  than  imitated. 

Moreover,  there  is  much  to  kindle  and  stimulate  in  the  course  of  the  central  figure  of  the 
story,  her  that  was  “glorified  by  the  genius  of  Handel,  and  sanctified  by  the  piety  of  Racine.” 
What  a lofty  patriotism  she  showed  ! What  a generous  self-sacrifice  in  the  words,  “ I will  go 
in  unto  the  king,  and  if  I perish,  I perish  !”  And  what  courage,  in  attacking,  as  she  did,  the 
king’s  favorite  ! The  artist  has  exaggerated  nothing  in  the  splendor  of  the  architecture,  the 
spirited  pose  of  Esther,  the  kindling  wrath  of  the  king,  and  the  downcast  air  of  the  wretched 
Haman. 


ESTHER  CONFOUNDING  HAM 


ISAIAH. 


This  is  the  greatest  of  the  prophets  of  speech,  as  Elijah  is  of  those  of  action.  His  utter- 
ances are  greater  in  number  than  those  of  any  other,  and  excel  as  much  in  quality  as  in  quan- 
tity. This  was  owing,  in  part,  to  the  length  of  his  life,  the  height  of  his  social  position,  and 
the  period  in  which  he  appeared,  but  mainly  to  his  own  magnificent  genius.  His  oracles  take 
in  all  forms  of  prophetic  expression,  and  are  great  in  all.  Whether  it  is  mere  narrative,  or 
vivid  description,  or  didactic  reasoning,  or  impassioned  appeal,  or  direct  invective,  or  tender 
entreaty,  that  employs  his  pen,  the  result  is  the  same.  Everything  bears  the  stamp  of  a great 
and  original  mind.  His  frequent  references  to  the  great  future  Deliverer  are  so  many  as  to 
have  acquired  for  him  the  name  of  “ the  Evangelical  Prophet,”  and  have  rendered  his  book 
almost  as  dear  and  as  familiar  to  Christians  as  the  Psalter.  No  other  inspired  writer  has  so 
set  forth  the  glory  of  the  triumphant  Messiah,  whose  name  is  called  “Wonderful;”  no  other 
has  given,  with  such  melting  pathos,  the  experience  of  the  suffering  Messiah,  whom  it  pleased 
the  Lord  to  bruise.  The  two  sides  of  the  picture  put  together  make  the  most  marvelous  com- 
bination the  earth  has  ever  seen. 

In  the  illustration  Isaiah  kneels  on  a naked  rock,  rapt  in  devout  meditation.  There 
stretches  before  him  a wide  sweep  of  vale  and  upland,  of  bright  skies  reflected  in  waters 
beneath,  but  he  neither  sees  nor  hears  anything  but  the  voice  of  the  Lord  speaking  in  the  quiet 
communion. 


ISAIAH. 


THE  DESTRUCTION  OF  SENNACHERIB’S  HOST. 


2 KINGS  XIX. 


The  picture  represents  a fearful  overthrow  wrought  by  an  angelic  being.  The  awful  occur- 
rence is  related  both  by  the  prophet  Isaiah  and  by  the  author  of  the  Book  of  Kings.  Sen- 
nacherib was  threatening  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  and  had  used  insulting  words  respecting 
the  God  of  Israel.  In  answer  to  the  prayer  of  Hezekiah,  the  Lord  gave  assurance  of  complete 
and  speedy  deliverance.  This  was  wrought  by  the  destruction  of  the  invading  foe.  “ The 
angel  of  the  Lord  went  out  and  smote  in  the  camp  of  the  Assyrians  an  hundred  and  fourscore 
and  five  thousand.”  This  was  all  done  in  a single  night.  It  was  not,  therefore,  a nocturnal 
attack  by  human  foes,  nor  a terrible  storm,  nor  a pestilence,  nor  a simoom  of  the  desert,  as 
learned  men  have  imagined,  but  a direct  visitation  of  God,  like  that  which  in  one  night  slew  all 
the  first-born  in  Egypt.  There  was  no  disturbance,  no  alarm.  The  entire  host  at  night-fall 
were  in  their  usual  health,  and  in  the  morning  were  all  corpses.  The  Assyrian  monuments 
contain  no  reference  to  this  event,  for  men  do  not  take  pains  to  record  their  defeats  ; but 
Herodotus  learned  in  Egypt  from  the  records  of  that  country  a story  of  Assyrian  discomfiture 
which,  under  some  disguise,  resembles  in  several  particulars  the  Scripture  narrative. 

The  artist  admirably  depicts  the  confusion,  the  wild  dismay  of  the  host  as  they  lie  prostrate 
beneath  the  avenging  arm  of  the  messenger  of  the  skies.  But  the  scene  has  been  vividly 
described  in  the  well-known  stanzas  of  Byron  : 

“The  Assyrian  came  down  like  the  wolf  on  the  fold, 

And  his  cohorts  were  gleaming  in  purple  and  gold  ; 

And  the  sheen  of  their  spears  was  like  stars  on  the  sea 
When  the  blue  wave  rolls  nightly  on  deep  Galilee. 

“ Like  the  leaves  of  the  forest  when  Summer  is  green, 

That  host,  with  their  banners,  at  sunset  were  seen  : 

Like  the  leaves  of  the  forest  when  Autumn  hath  blown, 

That  host,  on  the  morrow,  lay  wither’d  and  strown. 

“ For  the  Angel  of  Death  spread  his  wings  on  the  blast, 

And  breathed  in  the  face  of  the  foe  as  he  pass’d ; 

And  the  eyes  of  the  sleepers  wax’d  deadly  and  chill, 

And  their  hearts  but  once  heaved,  and  forever  grew  still  ! ” 


DESTRUCTION  OK  SENNACHERIB’S  HOST. 


BARUCH. 


JEREMIAH  XXXVI.,  XLV. 


This  name  is  well  known  as  the  title  of  a book  in  the  Old  Testament  Apocrypha,  a compi- 
lation after  the  manner  of  the  Hebrew  prophets,  and  also  as  attached  to  a spurious  Apocalypse 
written  some  time  in  the  course  of  the  first  century  a.  d.  But  it  really  belongs  to  an  histori- 
cal personage  of  some  note  in  canonical  Scripture.  He  was  of  a distinguished  family,  and 
very  well  informed,  as  we  learn  from  Josephus;  and  his  brother,  Seraiah,  held  an  honorable 
position  in  the  court  of  Zedekiah,  Judah’s  last  king  (Jerem.  li.  59).  But  the  chief  interest 
now  taken  in  Baruch  springs  from  his  close  and  confidential  relations  with  Jeremiah,  to  whom 
he  stood  in  the  same  intimacy  as  Elisha  with  Elijah,  or  Timothy  with  Paul.  It  was  his  office  to 
receive  and  record  the  disclosures  of  the  divine  will,  made  by  the  mouth  of  the  weeping  prophet, 

and  also  to  be  a medium  of  communication  between  him  and  the  kin^  and  nobles  of  the 

<_> 

land.  He  shared,  too,  his  imprisonment  until  the  fall  of  the  city,  and  afterward  was  compelled 
with  him  to  go  into  Egypt.  As  to  what  followed  this  removal,  the  same  impenetrable  obscu- 
rity rests  upon  the  fate  of  master  and  scholar. 

The  artist  represents  him,  in  the  illustration,  as  reclining  amid  the  bare  walls  of  a prison, 
and  surrounded  by  the  precious  rolls  on  which  it  had  been  his  privilege  to  inscribe  the  words 
of  God.  He  seems  rapt  in  meditation,  and  his  countenance  has  a sad  and  careworn  expression. 
He  may  be  musing  on  the  high  hopes  he  once  cherished  for  himself,  and  their  total  disappoint- 
ment. For  the  divine  utterance  to  him  is  still  on  record,  “ Seekest  thou  great  things  for  thy- 
self? Seek  them  not.” 


BARUCH. 


EZEKIEL  PROPHESYING. 


EZEKIEL  II.,  III. 


This  prophet,  like  Jeremiah,  was  also  a priest,  and,  like  him,  was  sent  to  a gainsaying 
people.  His  name  denotes  “the  strength  of  God,”  and  is  very  appropriate  to  one  who,  among 
the  prophets,  is  what  Michael  Angelo  was  among  painters  and  sculptors.  His  imagery  is 
colossal,  like  that  of  one  who  had  wandered  through  the  vast  halls  of  the  Assyrian  palaces.  It 
seizes  the  singular  emblems  of  human  dignity  and  brute  strength  combined — the  eagle-winged 
lion,  the  human-headed  bull — and  weaves  them  into  strange  and  complicated  forms  with  mystic 
wheels,  and  amber  fire,  and  rainbow  brightness.  When  they  move,  it  is  with  the  speed  of  the 
lightning’s  flash,  and  with  the  sound  of  rolling  thunder  or  the  din  of  an  army.  Countless  eyes 
indicate  boundless  intelligence,  and  the  sapphire  throne  which  crowns  the  whole  aptly  suggests 
its  awful  and  mysterious  occupant  in  whose  name  Ezekiel  speaks. 

The  prophet  needed  to  be  reinforced  by  such  a gigantic  vision.  He  came  to  speak  to 
unwilling  ears.  His  countrymen  threw  the  blame  of  their  exile  upon  God,  and  not  upon  them- 
selves. They  were  “hard  of  face  and  stiff  of  heart  ;”  hardened,  rather  than  softened,  by  the 
bitter  experiences  of  the  Captivity,  and  wholly  averse  to  the  penitence  indispensable  to  the 
restoration  of  God’s  favor.  This  is  well  shown  in  the  illustration.  Ezekiel  stands  in  the 
midst,  with  solemn  earnestness  shown  in  every  trait ; but  the  hearers  seem  listless,  or  attending 
rather  with  mere  curiosity  than  any  deep  moral  interest.  But  his  message  is  to  speak, 
“whether  they  will  hear,  or  whether  they  will  forbear.” 


EZEK1KL  I’KOl’H  KSYING. 


THE  VISION  OF  EZEKIEL. 


EZEKIEL  XXXVII 


Many  grand  and  impressive  visions  were  vouchsafed  to  Ezekiel,  but  none  so  thrilling  as 
that  which  is  here  represented.  The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  had  taken  Ezekiel  and  set  him  down 
in  the  open  valley — a stretch  of  desert  where  a huge  caravan  had  left  its  skeletons  of  man  and 
beast  to  bleach  upon  the  yellow  sands,  or  a vast  battlefield  where  thousands  and  tens  of  thou- 
sands had  been  slain,  and  none  left  to  bury  them.  Round  these  lifeless  relics  the  prophet  was 
told  to  walk  to  and  fro,  and,  as  he  walked,  to  bid  them  live  and  hear  the  word  of  the  Lord. 
They  were  very  many  and  very  dry,  but  Ezekiel  prophesied  as  he  had  been  commanded,  and 
as  his  voice  sounded  through  the  desert  air,  there  was  a peal  as  of  thunder,  the  earth  shook 
beneath  his  feet,  and,  behold  ! the  bones  came  together,  the  sinews  and  the  flesh  crept  over 
them,  and  a new  skin  covered  the  whole.  Here  they  were,  complete  in  form,  but  every  hand 
stiff,  every  eye  glazed,  every  tongue  cold  and  silent — a vast  field  of  unburied  corpses.  The 
scene  was  hardly  less  dismal  and  revolting  than  it  was  before.  But  again  Ezekiel  received  the 
command  to  prophesy  and  say,  “ Come  from  the  four  winds,  O breath,  and  breathe  upon  these 
slain,  that  they  may  live  !”  He  obeyed,  and  once  more  the  word  was  efficacious.  Vital  breath 
entered  into  these  lifeless  forms.  One  after  another  they  arose  and  stood  upon  their  feet,  until 
there  was  an  exceeding  great  army.  The  picture  represents  all  the  steps  in  this  wondrous 
revolution.  Dry  and  disjointed  bones  lie  scattered  in  the  foreground  ; behind  them  are  mov- 
ing skeletons,  while,  in  the  rear,  are  some  in  whom  the  process  is  complete,  and  who  stand  gaz- 
ing at  the  source  of  this  wondrous  transformation,  while  on  a height  stands  the  prophet,  con- 
templating the  vision. 

The  meaning  of  the  whole  is  clear.  The  bones  in  the  valley  were  no  unfitting  emblem  of 
the  race  of  Israel,  scattered,  divided  from  each  other,  and,  as  a nation,  to  all  appearance  hope- 
lessly lost.  But  a day  was  coming  when  the  grave  of  their  captivity  would  be  opened,  when 
the  skeleton  of  Judaism  would  come  forth  and  feel  the  breath  of  the  Divine  Spirit,  and  be 
again  clothed  with  fresh  and  living  beauty.  What  took  place  in  the  valley  was  a type  of  the 
future.  Yet  this  could  hardly  be  without  suggesting  the  possibility  of  a literal  resurrection  of 
the  body.  The  power  which  turned  dry  bones  into  animated  beings,  could  do  the  same  with 
moldering  dust  ; and  this  passage  must  be  counted  with  those  of  other  prophets,  which  made 
the  general  resurrection  an  accepted  truth  in  the  days  of  our  Lord’s  flesh. 


THE  VISION  OK  EZEKIEL. 


DANIEL. 


DANIEL  X. 


Under  one  of  the  early  Pharaohs  Joseph  became  Prime  Minister  of  Egypt,  and  recently  a 
man  of  Jewish  descent  held  the  same  office  in  the  court  of  Oueen  Victoria.  Between  these 
there  was  a long  succession  of  Israelites,  who,  by  the  singular  gifts  of  their  race,  at  various 
intervals  mounted  to  the  highest  places  of  Oriental  or  European  states.  Prominent  among 
these  is  one  whose  life  covered  the  whole  period  of  the  exile,  and  who  was  called,  by  Gabriel, 
“greatly  beloved  of  God.”  To  many  English  readers  he  is  best  known  by  the  exclamation  in 
the  Merchant  of  Venice,  “a  Daniel  come  to  judgment,”  borrowed,  doubtless,  from  the  Apocry- 
phal story  of  Susanna  ; but  although  he  is  spoken  of  as  one  from  whose  transcendent  wisdom 
nothing  could  be  hid  (Ezekiel  xxviii.  3),  his  name  and  fame  rest  upon  other  grounds.  His 
character  seems  to  have  been  a complete  and  consistent  whole  from  his  youth  up.  He  was  a 
man  of  habitual  prayer,  of  firm  faith,  of  unshaken  constancy  ; the  same  in  adversity  and  in 
prosperity.  His  rectitude  of  conduct  was  so  entire  that  envious  foes  could  find  no  matter  of 
accusation  against  him,  save  in  the  matter  of  his  religion.  His  great  gifts  from  God  did  not 
turn  his  head  ; his  high  position  at  court  did  not  render  him  proud. 

The  illustration  represents  him  by  the  side  of  the  great  river,  where  he  received  the  chief 
later  visions  recorded  in  the  book  that  bears  his  name.  His  attitude  is  simple  but  appropriate, 
as  expressing  deep  seriousness  and  thoughtful  meditation. 


DANIEL. 


THE  FIERY  FURNACE. 


DANIEL  III. 


The  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  speaks  of  certain  heroes  of  old  who  by  their  faith  “ quenched 
the  violence  of  fire”  (xi.  34).  This  illustration  furnishes  an  instance.  Nebuchadnezzar  had 
erected  a vast  image  of  gold,  to  which  all  his  subjects  without  exception  were  required  to  bow 
down,  under  penalty  of  being  cast  into  the  midst  of  a burning  fiery  furnace.  The  great  body  of 
the  citizens  consented,  but  there  were  three  companions  of  Daniel  who  deliberately  refused  to 
obey.  When  the  monarch  heard  of  this  he  cited  them  before  him,  renewing  the  command 
under  the  same  penalty.  The  answer  of  the  young  men  has  become  classic,  as  an  example  of 
modest  firmness  and  intrepidity.  “We  are  not  careful  to  answer  thee  in  this  matter.  If  it  be 
so,  our  God  whom  we  serve  is  able  to  deliver  us  from  the  burning  fiery  furnace.  But  if  not, 
be  it  known  unto  thee,  O king,  that  we  will  not  serve  thy  gods  nor  worship  the  golden  image 
thou  hast  set  up.”  But  these  words  only  filled  him  with  rage,  and  he  commanded  them  to  be 
at  once  flung  into  the  fire.  The  sort  of  furnace  here  intended  cannot  certainly  be  known.  As 
its  intensity  could  be  increased  by  the  employment  of  certain  means  not  here  specified,  it 
would  seem  to  have  been  inclosed  in  some  way.  As  four  persons  could  walk  to  and  fro  in  it, 
it  must  have  been  of  immense  size  ; and  as  these  persons  could  be  seen  in  it  by  spectators  who 
were  far  enough  away  to  be  beyond  the  reach  of  harm  from  it,  it  must  have  been  so  placed  as 
to  be  open  to  the  inspection  of  persons  at  a distance. 

In  this  way  the  illustration  has  conceived  the  case.  The  king  and  his  counselors,  from 
above,  see  the  wondrous  fact  that,  instead  of  being  consumed,  these  Jews  move  about  at  their 
ease.  The  artist  has  omitted  one  characteristic  feature  of  the  Scripture.  The  young  men  are 
not  alone,  but  a fourth  form  is  there,  with  an  aspect  so  heavenly  that  he  seemed  “ like  a son  of 
the  gods,”  i.  e.,  something  divine.  It  may  very  well  have  been  the  Angel  of  the  Covenant, 
who  afterward  became  incarnate  in  the  person  of  Christ,  although,  however  probable  such  a 
theophany,  it  cannot  be  proved.  The  result  was  that  the  monarch  called  the  courageous  men, 
the  servants  of  the  most  high  God,  to  come  forth.  They  obeyed  him,  and  behold  ! they  came 
forth  unharmed,  for  the  fire  had  no  power  over  their  bodies,  “ nor  was  an  hair  of  their  head 
singed,  neither  were  their  coats  changed,  nor  had  the  smell  of  fire  passed  upon  them.”  Their 
victory  was  absolute  and  complete.  Their  faith  had  quenched  the  violence  of  fire. 


THE  l'IKKY  FURNACE. 


BELSHAZZAR’S  FEAST. 


DANIEL  V. 


The  existence  of  Belshazzar  was  once  asserted  to  be  a mere  myth,  since  profane  history 
made  Nabonidus  the  last  king  of  Babylon  ; and  the  authority  of  Daniel  was  impeached  and 
derided.  But,  in  1854,  Sir  Henry  Rawlinson  read  on  a cylinder  of  Nabonidus  the  statement 
that  he  had  associated  his  eldest  son  Belshazzar  with  him  upon  the  throne,  during  the  latter 
part  of  his  reign.  This  vindicated  the  Scripture  narrative,  and  explained  exactly  how  Daniel, 
who  was  made  next  to  the  acting  king,  should  be  called  “ third  ruler  in  the  kingdom.”  This 
discovery  from  the  Assyrian  monuments  goes  far  to  sustain  the  position  that  adequate  infor- 
mation would  explain  all  the  other  apparent  inconsistencies  between  the  Scripture  and  the 
words  of  credible  secular  historians. 

This  last  king  of  Babylon  was  celebrating  a profane,  riotous  feast,  which  met  with  an  extra- 
ordinary interruption.  Surrounded  by  his  lords,  and  his  wives,  and  his  concubines,  he  was  not 
satisfied  with  the  usual  revelry,  but  must  needs  give  a zest  to  the  entertainment  by  sending  for 
the  sacred  vessels  brought  by  his  grandfather  from  Jerusalem,  in  order  that  what  had  been  used 
only  for  solemn  worship  might  be  made  the  instruments  of  a drunken  revel.  But,  in  the  midst 
of  the  boisterous  mirth,  there  was  a sudden  pause.  “ The  king’s  countenance  changed,  and  his 
thoughts  troubled  him  so  that  the  joints  of  his  loins  were  loosed,  and  his  knees  smote  one 
against  another.”  The  reason  was,  the  fingers  of  a man’s  hand  came  forth  and  wrote  mysteri- 
ous characters  upon  the  wall.  Nobody  understood  the  writing  or  its  meaning,  but  why  should 
the  kingf  be  alarmed  ? It  migfht  be  of  nood  as  well  as  of  evil  omen.  His  conscience  deter- 
mined  its  character.  Engaged  as  he  was,  at  the  time,  at  a profane,  dissolute  banquet,  there 
could  be  only  one  explanation  of  its  general  tenor.  It  spoke  of  doom  dark  and  deadly;  but 
this  conviction  only  intensified  the  monarch’s  desire  to  have  a fuller  disclosure  of  its  intent.  In 
vain  he  asked  his  wise  men.  The  secret  baffled  their  power.  Then  the  queen  suggested  that 
he  summon  the  Hebrew  Daniel,  which  he  did.  And  Daniel  gave  the  explanation,  prefacing  it 
with  a solemn  warningf. 

It  is  this  scene  which  the  artist  sets  forth.  The  company  are  assembled  in  a stately  hall 
marked  with  the  well-known  features  of  Assyrian  architecture.  The  guests  are  gazing  in  aston- 
ishment at  the  mystic  message,  around  which  a stream  of  light  pours  down  upon  the  hall,  while 
Daniel,  with  outstretched  hand,  is  explaining  its  solemn  purport.  The  whole  scene  has  been 
strikingly  depicted  in  one  of  the  Hebrew  melodies  cf  Byron, 


IK 

Ifll  lllli  lllli 

||||||||||l||| 

111 

ii 

pill 

ISIlB 

fliSlIH 

BELSHAZZAR’S  FEAST 


DANIEL  IN  THE  LIONS’  DEN. 


DANIEL  VII. 


Envy  in  the  hearts  of  the  princes  of  Persia  led  to  the  scene  here  portrayed.  Displeased  at 
the  elevation  of  a foreigner  over  them  all,  they  sought  means  to  overthrow  him.  But  so  exact 
and  faithful  was  he  in  his  high  office,  that  no  colorable  charge  could  be  brought  against  him. 
So  they  persuaded  the  king  to  make  a decree  that  for  thirty  days  no  one  should  ask  a petition 
of  any  god  or  man  save  the  king,  under  pain  of  being  cast  into  the  den  of  lions.  This  decree 
effected  no  change  in  the  religious  habits  of  Daniel.  He  still  prayed  toward  Jerusalem, 
according  to  the  words  of  Solomon  at  the  dedication  of  the  temple,  “ If  they  pray  unto  the 
Lord  toward  the  city  which  thou  hast  chosen  and  the  house  that  I have  built  for  thy  name” 
(i  Kings  viii.  44),  just  as  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  doing,  and  made  no  attempt  at  con- 
cealment. He  knew  the  risk  that  he  ran,  but  deliberately  chose  to  obey  God  rather  than  man. 
The  case  was  reported  to  the  king,  who  was  much  displeased  with  himself,  and  labored  hard  to 
release  his  faithful  servant  from  the  snare,  but  in  vain,  for  “ the  law  of  the  Medes  and  Persian, 
altereth  not.”  Once  established,  even  the  monarch  cannot  reverse  it.  A curious  illustration 
of  this  fact  is  found  in  the  survival  of  a similar  custom  to  our  own  times.  In  the  former  part 
of  this  century  a Persian  king  (Aga  Mahmed  Khan)  having,  on  an  expedition,  fixed  his 
encampment  at  a convenient  place,  published  an  edict  not  to  remove  until  the  snow  should 
disappear  from  the  neighboring  mountains.  But  the  snow  was  unusually  slow  in  melting,  and 
supplies  became  scarce.  What  was  he  to  do  ? To  escape  from  the  difficulty  he  employed  a 
vast  number  of  men  in  clearing  away  the  snow  that  was  visible  from  the  camp,  and  so,  at 
length,  was  able  to  keep  his  edict  and  put  his  army  in  motion.  No  such  escape  was  open  to 
Darius,  and  therefore  Daniel  was  cast  into  the  den,  which  was  an  excavation  walled  up  at  the 
sides  and  having  a space  on  the  exterior  from  which  the  animals  could  conveniently  be  seen. 

The  result  is  shown  in  the  picture.  The  king,  mortified  at  his  rashness  and  folly,  spent  the 
night  sleepless  and  fasting ; but  Daniel  was  as  well  off  as  in  his  own  house.  The  angel  of  the 
Lord  was  with  him  and  shut  the  lions’  mouths,  as  he  told  the  king  in  the  morning.  The  cou- 
rageous and  faithful  man  was  vindicated  in  a marvelous  manner,  the  ferocious  wild  beasts  not 
harming  a hair  of  his  head.  His  persecutors  were  consigned  to  the  fate  they  intended  for  him. 
But  for  them  there  was  no  interposition,  no  invisible  power  holding  in  check  the  lions,  but  all 
their  bones  were  broken  ere  they  reached  the  bottom  of  the  den. 


DANIEL  IN  TIIE  LIONS'  DEN. 


THE  PROPHET  AMOS. 


AMOS  I.,  VII. 


Somewhere  about  800  b.c.,  during  the  long  reign  of  Jeroboam  II.,  the  able  but  unscrupu- 
lous monarch  under  whom  the  apostate  kingdom  of  Israel  attained  its  highest  prosperity,  there 
came  forward,  to  speak  in  the  name  of  Jehovah,  a man  who  neither  by  descent  nor  training 
belonged  to  the  prophetic  order,  but  was  simply  one  of  the  herdmen  of  Tekoah.  While  he 
occupied  himself  with  the  care  of  his  flocks,  the  call  of  the  Lord  reached  him,  and  the  plain 
countryman  bore  the  divine  message  even  to  those  who  sat  in  the  seat  of  kings.  But  while  “a 
child  of  nature,”  so  to  speak,  there  are  no  traces  of  inferiority  in  style  or  thought.  On  the 
contrary,  his  shepherd  life  seems  to  have  been  of  special  service.  Nowhere  else  among  the 
prophets  do  we  find  rustic  images  given  with  such  vividness,  and  originality,  and  inexhaustible 
abundance.  Not  merely  his  numerous  comparisons,  but  the  minute  lines  of  conception  and 
expression  indicate  one  whose  chief  familiarity  has  been  with  the  great  picture-book  of  nature. 

Accordingly  the  illustration  exhibits  him  leaning  upon  his  staff,  and  rapt  in  profound  medi- 
tation, with  his  form  brought  into  strong  relief  against  a brilliant  sky.  Around  him  all  is  waste 
and  desolate,  save  the  cluster  of  stunted  cactus  at  the  left,  while  afar  off  are  dimly  traced 
the  outlines  of  a city’s  walls  and  towers.  The  prophet  is  alone  in  his  silent  intercourse  with 
God. 


I HE  PROPHET  AMOS. 


JONAH  CALLING  NINEVEH  TO  REPENTANCE. 


JONAH  III. 


The  prophet  mentioned  here  is  generally  considered  to  have  been  contemporary  with  the 
one  represented  on  the  preceding  page,  but  his  mission  was  widely  different.  Amos  addressed 
only  his  countrymen,  but  Jonah  was  sent  to  a heathen  people — a fact  in  which  he  stands  alone 
in  the  long  line  of  Jewish  prophets.  He  is  prepared  for  his  work  in  a marvelous  way.  Flee- 
ing by  sea  to  escape  the  presence  of  the  Lord  and  avoid  an  unwelcome  duty,  the  ship  in  which 
he  took  passage  is  saved  from  wreck  only  by  his  being  cast  into  the  sea.  There  he  is  swal- 
lowed by  a huge  fish,  and  on  the  third  day,  having  been  miraculously  preserved,  he  is  vomited 
upon  the  dry  land.  The  simple  verity  of  these  statements  is  abundantly  established  by  the 
explicit  teaching  of  our  Lord  (Matt.  xii.  39-41  ; xvi.  4),  and  whoever  denies  this  miracle  may 
just  as  well  deny  all  the  others  in  Scripture. 

Jonah  went  to  Nineveh,  the  most  magnificent  of  all  the  capitals  of  the  ancient  world,  and 
therefore  a fitting  representative  of  the  whole.  It  was  very  large,  the  circumference  being 
reckoned  by  Niebuhr  at  ninety  English  miles,  while  later  investigators  make  it  still  greater.  It 
included  parks,  and  gardens,  and  fields,  and  people,  and  cattle,  within  its  vast  limits.  The 
prophet  began  to  enter  it  and  deliver  his  message.  His  utterance  was  very  short  but  weighty, 
the  one  piercing  cry,  “Yet  forty  days  and  Nineveh  shall  be  overthrown.”  The  artist  repre- 
sents him  in  the  act  of  speaking  before  a mixed  crowd,  who  listen  with  awe  and  apparent  con- 
trition. Opposite  the  speaker  is  a huge  winged  bull  with  the  head  of  a man,  while  behind  him 
are  stretched  out  lofty  piles  of  building  with  finely-carved  colonnades  rising  one  above  another. 

The  cry  was  re-echoed  from  street  to  street  and  square  to  square,  until  at  last  it  reached 
the  king  on  his  throne  of  state.  The  whole  people  became  convinced  of  its  truth.  The  pre- 
vious history  of  the  prophet  (Luke  xi.  30)  was  regarded  as  “ a sign  ” — a miraculous  confir- 
mation of  his  divine  mission — and  the  nation  acted  accordingly.  They  interpreted  the  fact  of 
the  announcement  as  an  evidence  that  the  doom  might  be  averted  by  repentance.  Accord- 
ingly, they  proclaimed  a rigid  and  universal  fast,  from  the  king  on  his  throne  to  the  beasts  of 
the  stall.  Everywhere  was  sackcloth  and  ashes — the  cry  of  the  penitent,  and  the  endeavor 
after  a new  life.  The  result  was  that  God  accepted  their  repentance  and  revoked  his  decree. 
The  ruin  of  Nineveh  was  postponed  for  a century.  And  so  God  gave  to  his  people  a prac- 
tical proaf  that  he  was  the  God  of  the  heathen  also,  and  could  prepare  for  himself,  even  among 
them,  a people  for  his  possession. 


JONAII  CALLING  NINEVEII  TO  REPENTANCE. 


DANIEL  CONFOUNDING  THE  PRIESTS  OF  BEL. 


In  the  Latin  Vulgate  the  Book  of  Daniel  has  a fourteenth  chapter,  containing  the  History 
of  the  Destruction  of  Bel  and  the  Dragon.  This  is  not  extant  in  Hebrew  or  Chaldee,  and  has 
always  been  rejected  by  the  Jews.  Jerome  spoke  of  it  as  a fable,  and  the  narrative  furnishes 
internal  evidence  of  being  a fiction  by  attributing  to  Babylon  the  worship  of  animals,  which 
never  was  practiced  in  that  country.  The  story  set  forth  in  the  picture  runs  thus: 

“ And  in  that  same  place  was  a great  dragon,  which  they  of  Babylon  worshiped.  And  the 
king  said  unto  Daniel,  Wilt  thou  also  say  that  this  is  of  brass  ? Lo,  he  liveth  ; he  eateth  and 
drinketh  ; thou  canst  not  say  that  he  is  no  living  god  : therefore  worship  him.  Then  said 
Daniel  unto  the  king,  I will  worship  the  Lord  my  God,  for  he  is  the  living  God.  But  give  me 
leave,  O king,  and  I shall  slay  this  dragon  without  sword  or  staff.  The  king  said,  I give  thee 
leave.  Then  Daniel  took  pitch,  and  fat,  and  hair,  and  did  seethe  them  together,  and  made 
lumps  thereof ; this  he  put  in  the  dragon’s  mouth,  and  so  the  dragon  burst  asunder : and 
Daniel  said,  Lo,  these  are  the  gods  ye  worship  !” 

It  is  in  the  act  of  uttering  this  triumphant  exclamation  that  the  prophet  is  represented 
here.  The  explosion  has  taken  place,  demolishing  the  brazen  idol,  and  the  people  look  on  in 
wondering  consternation.  The  background  is  occupied  with  buildings  exhibiting  the  architec- 
ture of  the  time,  especially  the  lofty  columns  with  the  peculiar  capitals  and  the  Assyrian  archi- 
trave above. 


DANIEL  CONFOUNDING  THE  PRIESTS  OF  BEL. 


HELIODORUS  PUNISHED  IN  THE  TEMPLE. 


2 MACCABEES  III. 


Heliodorus  was  the  treasurer  of  Seleucus  Philopator,  and  was  sent  by  him  to  carry  away 
the  private  treasures  deposited,  for  safe  keeping,  in  the  temple  at  Jerusalem.  He  accordingly 
came  to  the  Holy  City,  and  no  entreaties  of  the  priests  could  divert  him  from  his  purpose. 
But  as  he  was  about  to  put  it  into  execution,  he  was  stayed  by  a great  apparition.  There 
appeared  a horse  with  a terrible  rider,  clad  in  armor  of  gold,  rushing  upon  him,  while  two 
other  young  men  stood,  one  on  either  side,  and  scourged  him  with  sore  stripes.  Heliodorus 
fell  suddenly  to  the  ground,  “ compassed  with  great  darkness,”  and  speechless.  He  was  after- 
ward restored  by  the  intercession  of  the  high-priest,  Onias,  and,  on  returning  to  the  king,  bore 
witness  of  the  inviolable  majesty  of  the  temple. 

The  incident  has  furnished  Raphael  with  the  subject  of  one  of  his  great  pictures  ; but  the 
composition  before  us  is  every  way  worthy  of  its  author.  The  winged  horse,  with  his  avenging 
rider,  is  finely  drawn,  and  the  figures  of  the  two  youths  with  scourges  in  their  hands,  are  full  of 
life.  The  countenance  of  the  fallen  leader  expresses  anguish  and  terror,  and  the  fleeing  forms 
of  his  attendants  on  either  side,  with  the  prostrate  bodies  in  the  foreground,  complete  the  con- 
sternation of  the  scene. 


HELIODORUS  PUNISHED  IN  THE  TEMPLE. 


THE  NATIVITY. 


LUKE  II.,  7-20. 


A famous  prophecy  of  Isaiah  (ix.  6)  begins  thus  : “ Unto  us  a child  is  born,  unto  us  a son 
is  given,  and  his  name  shall  be  called  Wonderful,  Counsellor,  the  Mighty  God.”  Another  pas- 
sage of  the  same  prophet  speaks  of  one  virgin-born,  whose  name  should  be  Immanuel,  i.  e., 
God  with  us.  Thus  is  announced  the  transcendent  truth  of  revelation — the  Incarnation  of  the 
Son  of  God.  Theophanies,  that  is  occasional  and  temporary  appearances  of  a divine  being  in 
human  form,  had  often  occurred  in  the  Old  Testament.  But  here  is  something  specifically  dif- 
ferent : the  combination  of  the  divine  and  human  in  such  a union  that,  while  the  natures  are 
and  remain  distinct,  the  person  is  but  one,  and  so  continues  forever.  This  is  the  great  mystery 
of  godliness  and  the  great  fact  in  human  history.  No  wonder  that  it  has  always  awakened  the 
deepest  attention,  especially  in  the  form  of  its  occurrence.  The  contrast  is  inconceivably 
great.  A child  is  born  to  obscure  parents,  and  laid  in  a manger ; yet  that  child  is  he  to  whom 
every  knee  shall  bow  and  every  tongue  confess. 

The  picture  is  a charming  representation  of  the  mother  and  child,  around  whom  are 
gathered  in  adoration  and  surprise,  the  shepherds  who  were  summoned  by  an  angel  to  see  this 
great  sight.  The  appearance  of  the  apartment,  and  the  presence  of  the  animals,  suggest  the 
affecting  circumstances  under  which  the  infant  Redeemer  was  first  shown  to  men. 


THE  NATIVITY. 


THE  STAR  IN  THE  EAST. 


MATTHEW  II.,  i— 12. 


The  first  visitors  of  the  infant  Jesus  were  the  shepherds  who  watched  their  flocks  near 
Bethlehem,  but  the  next  were  persons  of  a very  different  social  position.  They  were  wise  men 
from  the  East,  Persian  magi,  men  of  high  rank  and  influence,  the  depositaries  of  nearly  all  the 
knowledge  and  science  of  their  time.  They  came  from  their  distant  home  to  the  lowly  cradle, 
and,  bowing  the  knee  to  the  babe,  offered  their  choice  gifts.  Their  coming  was  not  a mere 
aimless  marvel,  but  a type  of  the  long  procession  of  divers  tribes  and  tongues  which  ever  since 
has  been  continuously  pressing  to  the  Saviour’s  feet. 

But  how  came  they?  What  guided  them  in  their  long  journey?  A divine  intimation 
adapted  to  their  character  and  habits.  Once,  while  they  were  scanning  the  nightly  heavens, 
they  detected  a new  orb,  which  attracted  their  attention  as  if  it  were  significant  of  some  new 
appearance  on  the  earth.  They  connected  this  with  the  wide-spread  tradition  that  one  born  in 
Judea  should  rule  the  world.  And  so  they  set  forth  to  find  him  and  do  him  homage.  \\  hen 
they  reached  the  Holy  Land  the  stranger  in  the  heavens  reappeared,  and  guided  them  to  the 
spot.  The  picture  gives  the  stately  procession  moving  slowly  on,  while  before  them  gleams  in 
the  sky  the  luminous  body  which  is  their  guide. 

“ The  star  was  so  beautiful,  large  and  clear, 

That  all  the  other  stars  of  the  sky 
Became  a white  mist  in  the  atmosphere, 

And  by  this  they  knew  that  the  coming  was  near 
Of  the  Prince  foretold  in  the  prophecy." 


THE  STAR  IN  THE  EAST. 


THE  FLIGHT  INTO  EGYPT. 


MATTHEW  II.,  13-15. 


It  was  predicted  of  the  Saviour  that  he  should  be  despised  and  rejected  of  men.  The  ful- 
fillment of  the  prophecy  began  while  he  lay  a babe  in  the  cradle.  The  suspicious  Herod,  who 
then  ruled  the  kingdom  of  Judea,  was  ready  to  take  any  step  to  remove  a presumed  competitor 
for  his  throne.  But  a divine  interposition  baffled  his  art  and  cruelty.  Joseph,  the  just  man, 
received  from  an  angel  of  the  Lord  the  direction,  “Arise  and  take  the  young  child  and  his 
mother  and  flee  into  Egypt.”  The  reasons  why  Egypt  was  chosen  are  obvious.  It  was  a 
foreign  country  entirely  beyond  the  reach  of  Herod,  and  yet  it  was  not  very  far  off,  the  nearest 
point  being  not  more  than  sixty  miles  from  Bethlehem.  It  was,  moreover,  extensively  inhab- 
ited by  Jews,  through  successive  migrations  from  the  time  of  the  Babylonian  exile.  They 
became  so  numerous  that  in  the  reign  of  Ptolemy  Philadelphus  the  Scriptures  were  translated 
into  Greek,  and  a temple  was  built  on  Egyptian  soil,  which,  for  a time,  rivaled  the  true  sanc- 
tuary at  Jerusalem.  Here,  therefore,  Joseph  would  find  himself  among  his  countrymen,  and 
enjoy  as  many  privileges  as  it  was  possible  for  a Jew  in  exile  to  have. 

The  flight  has  been  a favorite  theme  with  artists  for  centuries,  but  the  conception  of  the 
present  picture  is  quite  equal  to  the  pathos  and  tender  interest  of  the  incident. 


THE  MASSACRE  OF  THE  INNOCENTS. 


MATTHEW  II.,  16-18. 


Here  are  what  have  been  not  improperly  called  the  first  martyrs  for  Jesus.  When  Herod 
found  that  the  wise  men  mocked  him  he  resorted  to  a cruel  expedient  to  secure  himself  against 
any  rival.  He  sent  and  destroyed  all  the  male  children  in  Bethlehem — not  merely  the  babes, 
but  as  many  as  were  not  more  than  two  years  of  age — probably,  considering  the  size  of  the  vil- 
lage, about  eighteen  or  twenty  in  number.  The  deed  seems  so  revolting  that  some  have 
denied  its  possibility.  But  it  is  in  full  keeping  with  Herod’s  character.  He  was  jealous, 
harsh,  and  blood-thirsty.  He  never  spared  age  or  sex  on  other  occasions,  and  was  so  severe 
toward  his  own  children  that  Augustus  Cesar  said  it  was  better  to  be  Herod’s  hog  than  his 
son.  It  is  not  at  all  strange,  therefore,  that  he  should  order  the  death  of  a score  of  chil- 
dren in  a country  village.  As  to  the  little  ones  themselves,  to  them  applies  the  old  motto, 
Near  to  the  sword,  near  to  God.  Augustine  said,  “ Blessed  infants  ! He  who,  at  his  birth, 
had  angels  to  proclaim  him,  the  heavens  to  testify,  and  the  Magi  to  worship  him,  could  surely 
have  prevented  them  from  dying  had  he  not  known  that  they  died  not  in  that  death,  but 
rather  lived  in  higher  bliss.” 

The  scene  is  a painful  one,  but  to  those  who  can  conquer  this  feeling,  the  groups  and  other 
details  of  the  masterly  picture  will  repay  attentive  study., 


TI1E  MASSACRE  OF  THE  INNOCENTS. 


JESUS  QUESTIONING  THE  DOCTORS. 


LUKE  II.,  41-51. 


The  incident  here  portrayed  is  remarkable  as  being  the  only  one  recorded  of  all  that 
occurred  between  our  Lord’s  infancy  and  his  maturity.  The  rest  of  the  interval  is  covered  by 
the  general  statement  that  he  was  subject  to  his  parents.  The  exception  occurred  in  a peculiar 
way.  Joseph  and  Mary  had  taken  Jesus  with  them  to  the  Passover  at  Jerusalem,  when  he  was 
twelve  years  old.  On  their  return  they  missed  him  from  the  company,  and  went  back  to  the 
city,  where,  after  long  search,  they  found  him  occupied  as  the  illustration  represents,  “sitting 
in  the  midst  of  the  doctors,  both  hearing  them  and  asking  them  questions.” 

Surely  it  was  a strange  spectacle  : a mere  lad  surrounded  by  aged  and  learned  men,  yet 
speaking  with  such  gravity  and  modesty  as  filled  them  with  astonishment  ! In  one  of  the 
many  apartments  of  the  temple,  where  the  great  teachers  like  Hillel  and  Shammai  were  accus- 
tomed to  gather,  behold  an  ingenuous  stripling,  who  not  simply  listens,  but  puts  inquiries  of 
profound  and  far-reaching  significance!  The  boy  feels  that  he  is  in  his  Father’s  house  and 
about  his  Father’s  business;  and  his  divine  mission  makes  itself  conscious  to  his  soul.  In  him 
the  precocity  was  natural— an  appropriate  intimation  of  what  was  to  come. 

The  picture  is  admirable  in  composition  and  expression.  ’Tis  a pity  that  the  artist  has  put 
the  central  figure  standing,  when  Luke  says  that  he  sat. 


JESUS  QUESTIONING  THE  DOCTORS. 


JESUS  HEALING  THE  SICK. 


MATTHEW  IV.,  23. 


The  illustration  is  no  mean  rival  to  the  celebrated  work  of  Ary  Schaeffer,  entitled  Christus 
Consolator.  T he  pleasing  theme  is  the  gracious  Son  of  Man  “ healing  all  manner  of  sickness 
and  all  manner  of  disease  among  the  people.”  No  case  was  presented  to  him  which  he  was 
unable  or  unwilling  to  relieve.  There  is  no  danger  that  the  most  imaginative  artist  will  tran- 
scend  the  reality  in  gathering  around  the  healer  representatives  of  all  the  varied  ills  to  which 
humanity  is  heir.  Here  the  Saviour  lays  his  hand  upon  the  head  of  an  emaciated  child  borne 
in  its  mother’s  arms,  while  above  another  mother  carries  a lad  whose  vacant  face  indicates  the 
lack  of  reason,  and  below  a sick  man  lies  stretched  on  the  ground.  At  the  foot  of  the  picture 
a cripple  presses  forward  to  touch  the  hem  of  the  Saviour’s  garment,  on  one  side,  and  on  the 
other  some  friend  holds  up  the  head  of  one  from  whom  the  breath  seems  on  the  point  of 
departing. 

These  miracles  of  mercy  carrying  comfort  and  peace  to  so  many  hearts  and  households,  are 
only  type  of  that  grace  which  heals  the  yet  deeper  maladies  of  the  soul,  and  gives  assurance  of 
a higher  world,  where  the  inhabitant  never  says,  “ I am  sick,”  and  the  days  of  mourning  are 
forever  ended. 


JESUS  HEALING  THE  SICK 


THE  SERMON  ON  THE  MOUNT. 


MATTHEW  V.,  i,  2. 


This  discourse  is  well  known  as  the  longest  recorded  utterance  of  our  Lord.  This  fact  and 
the  topics  treated  give  to  it  a peculiar  authority  and  importance.  It  is  a popular  and  effective 
statement  of  the  nature  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  which  Jesus  came  to  set  up,  and  which  he 
had  said  was  just  at  hand ; and  its  main  purpose  is  to  correct  the  errors  which  prevailed  on 
that  subject,  and,  in  contrast,  to  set  forth  the  truth.  And  so,  without  being  a system  of 
theology  or  an  ethical  code,  it  is  a compendium  of  divine  knowledge,  which,  in  every  age,  has 
attracted  the  admiration  of  men.  It  begins  with  beatitudes  upon  the  classes  whom  men  are 
most  apt  to  overlook,  and  it  ends  with  a warning  which  none  can  afford  to  despise  ; and 
between  these  is  a series  of  statements  which  have  done  more  to  elevate  human  thought  and 
guide  human  action  than  all  other  teachings  put  together. 

Tradition  assigns  as  the  place  of  its  delivery  a hill  on  the  western  shore  of  the  lake  of  Gali- 
lee called  “ Kurun  Hattin,”  from  two  horn-like  heights  which  rise  sixty  feet  above  the  plain 
between  them,  on  which  there  are  grassy  slopes  for  the  hearers  to  stand.  Here  the  Great 
Teacher  sat  as  represented  in  the  plate,  and  uttered  his  wondrous  discourse. 


SERMON  ON  THE  MOUNT. 


JESUS  BLESSING  CHILDREN. 


MARK  X.,  13-16. 


The  whole  Gospel  scarcely  records  a more  typical  or  characteristic  feature  of  our  Lord 
than  the  one  described  here.  In  heathenism  children  have  no  rights  whatever.  In  classic 
times  the  power  of  the  parent  was  absolute  and  irresponsible.  It  was  lawful  to  expose  one’s 
offspring  to  abandonment  and  death,  and  philosophers  deemed  such  a course  even,  praise- 
worthy when  the  child  was  either  deformed  or  weakly,  and  therefore  gave  little  promise  of 
being  useful  to  the  state. 

Nothing  even  looking  in  such  a direction  can  be  found  in  the  Mosaic  economy.  Human 
life  was  sedulously  guarded,  and  an  infant  was  not  allowed  to  enter  upon  the  second  week  of 
its  existence  without  receiving:  the  token  of  God’s  everlasting:  covenant.  Yet  when  in  our 
Lord’s  days  infants  were  brought  to  him  for  his  blessing,  the  disciples  rebuked  the  parents. 
They  thought  that  it  was  below  the  Master’s  dignity  to  deal  with  babes,  and  supposed  that 
they  were  doing  him  honor  in  keeping  away  such  youthful  candidates  for  his  blessing.  But 
the  record  runs  that  he  was  “ much  displeased  ” at  their  officiousness.  He  had  no  sympathy 
with  their  cold,  haughty,  and  unfeeling  views.  He  recognized  the  worth  of  each  infant  in 
itself,  as  well  as  the  instinctive  yearnings  of  the  parental  heart. 

Hence  resulted  the  scene  graphically  depicted  in  the  illustration.  The  little  ones  come  to 
him  from  every  quarter  : some  borne  in  arms,  others  on  their  own  feet,  wdiile  the  disciples 
stand  by,  with  grave  and  displeased  looks,  over  against  the  eager  and  happy  mothers  who 
rejoice  to  receive  for  their  children  the  benediction  of  the  great  prophet.  How  many  aching 
hearts  have  been  comforted  by  his  cheering  words,  “ Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto  me,  for 
of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven.”  No  doubt  a very  large  proportion  of  the  glorified  inhabi- 
tants of  heaven  will  be  found  to  be  of  this  class.  The  Saviour  who  blessed  the  little  ones 
eighteen  centuries  ago  is  ready  to  do  the  like  now,  for  he  is  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and 
forever. 


CHRIST  STILLING  THE  TEMPEST. 


MATTHEW  VIII.,  23-27. 


The  Lake  of  Galilee  lies  in  its  deep  bed  among  the  hills  usually  as  smooth  as  a mirror,  but 
there  are  times  when  sudden  storms  lash  the  waters  into  a furious  tempest.  On  the  eastern 
side  there  are  ravines  and  gorges,  down  which  the  winds  that  sweep  over  the  vast  table-lands  of 
the  Hauran  pour  with  incredible  force,  and  the  result  is  a most  dangerous  commotion  of  the 
waves.  On  one  occasion,  during  such  a storm,  our  Lord  was  crossing  the  sea.  At  first  the 
water  was  calm  and  our  Lord  slept  nor  did  even  the  tumult  of  the  wind  and  rain,  when  the 
storm  arose,  awake  him.  But  the  disciples  were  alarmed,  as  indeed  they  had  reason  to  be,  if 
left  to  themselves.  When  wave  after  wave  broke  over  the  deck  and  it  seemed  as  if  they  must 
soon  go  down,  they  came  and  aroused  him  with  the  words,  “ Lord  save  us  ; we  perish.”  He 
rebuked  them  for  their  unbelieving  fears  ; how  could  the  ship  go  to  wreck  that  carried  Jesus? 
Then  he  turned  and  rebuked  the  wind  as  it  it  had  been  a living  power,  and  bade  the  angry  sea 
be  still.  Both  obeyed  him  at  once.  Not  only  did  the  wind  cease  to  blow,  but  its  effects  also. 
The  calm  was  great  and  immediate. 

The  illustration  vividly  portrays  the  striking  scene  : the  dark  night,  the  dashing  waves,  the 
rocking  vessel,  the  astonished  faces  of  the  disciples,  and  the  calm  unmoved  figure  of  Him  who 
holds  winds  and  waves  in  the  hollow  of  His  hand. 


CHRIST  STILLING  THE  TEMPEST. 


THE  DUMB  MAN  POSSESSED. 


MATTHEW  IX.,  32. 


It  was  written  of  old  (Isaiah  xxxv.,  6),  in  reference  to  the  times  of  the  Messiah,  that  then 
the  tongue  of  the  dumb  should  sing,  A fulfillment  of  this  prediction  is  the  subject  of  the  illus- 
tration here.  But  the  poor  unfortunate  was  not  a mute  by  birth  or  by  disease,  but  by  the  pos- 
session of  an  evil  spirit,  and  therefore  the  more  hopeless.  But  the  Being  to  whom  his  friends 
brought  the  demoniac  was  one  who  had  the  same  power  over  the  world  of  spirits  which  he 
exerted  upon  the  various  forms  of  disease.  Nothing  was  too  hard  for  him.  With  a word  he 
cast  out  the  evil  spirit,  and  then  the  dumb  spake. 

The  artist  has  chosen  to  put  the  occurrence  at  a place  where  a castellated  hill,  with  two  or 
three  slender  palms,  is  relieved  against  a clear  sky,  and  the  calm  beauty  of  nature  stands  over 
against  the  misery  of  a human  soul  subdued  by  a foul  fiend  from  the  pit.  The  figures  repre- 
sent the  imploring  earnestness  of  the  mute,  and  the  inquiring  gaze  of  the  spectators,  before 
the  miracle  is  accomplished  which  made  “ the  multitudes  marvel  and  glorify  God  who  had 
given  such  power  unto  men.” 


THE  DUMB  MAN  POSSESSED, 


CHRIST  IN  THE  SYNAGOGUE. 


MATTHEW  XIII.,  54. 


The  scene  is  the  place  of  assembly  in  Christ’s  own  city,  Capernaum.  Such  meetings  date 
from  the  time  of  the  Captivity.  Their  main  purpose  was  for  the  public  reading  of  the  law,  with 
which,  of  course,  prayers  were  joined,  and  usually  an  opportunity  for  exhortation  was  offered 
to  whoever  would  avail  himself  of  it.  In  the  time  of  our  Lord  there  were  synagogues  all  over 
the  land.  Jesus  appears  always  to  have  joined  in  this  worship,  sometimes  in  silence,  at 
others  speaking  the  word.  On  the  occasion  referred  to  here  he  “ taught,”  or  rather  was  teach- 
ing, implying  a continuous  habit.  His  teaching  produced  a deep  impression.  It  was  so  pure, 
so  fresh,  so  genial,  so  original,  that  men  were  astonished,  and  asked,  Whence  hath  this  man 
this  wisdom?  It  seemed  to  them  something  supernatural,  yet  they  did  not  receive  its  author. 
They  refused  to  believe  in  him.  They  knew  his  father  and  his  mother,  and  his  brothers  and 
his  sisters,  and  were  unwilling  to  admit  that  a prophet  could  issue  from  such  lowly  surround- 
ings. So  they  could  see  and  hear  him  speaking  as  shown  in  the  picture,  as  never  man  spake, 
and  yet  be  unwilling  to  heed.  Hence  his  solemn  declaration  that  it  should  be  more  tolerable 
for  the  land  of  Sodom  in  the  Day  of  Judgment  than  for  Capernaum.  (Matt,  xi.,  24.) 


CHRIST  IN  THE  SYNAGOGUE. 


THE  DISCIPLES  PLUCKING  CORN  ON  THE  SABBATH. 


MARK  II.,  23-28. 


The  scene  gives  a vivid  illustration  of  the  cold,  rigid,  narrow,  superstitious  formalism  which 
governed  our  Lord’s  countrymen.  They  observed  the  Master,  with  his  disciples,  walking 
through  the  grain  fields  on  the  Sabbath  day,  and  the  latter  plucking  some  of  the  ripe  grain. 
Immediately  they  brought  a charge  of  transgression,  not  because  they  took  what  did  not 
belong  to  them,  but  because  they  violated  holy  time.  The  law  forbade  plowing  and  grinding 
on  the  Sabbath,  and  when  the  disciples  rubbed  the  ears  of  grain  together  they  did  a species  of 
grinding,  and  so  came  under  the  prohibition  ! Nor  was  this  a solitary  or  extreme  specimen  of 
their  puerile  extravagance.  On  the  contrary,  there  were  scores  and  scores  of  just  such  pedantic 
and  childish  regulations.  It  is  no  wonder,  therefore,  that  our  Lord’s  principal  statements  con- 
cerning the  Sabbath  were  directed  against  their  superstitious  follies,  showing  that  works  of 
necessity  and  mercy  on  the  holy  day  were  always  authorized  by  the  Old  Testament  itself,  as 
well  as  by  reason  and  the  nature  of  things.  “ Lor  the  Sabbath  was  made  for  man,  and  not  man 
for  the  Sabbath.”  The  Sabbath  is  a means,  and  when  a means  defeats  its  own  avowed  end  of 
course  it  ceases  to  have  validity,  and  not  only  may,  but  must,  be  disregarded. 


THE  DISCIPLES  PLUCKING  CORN  ON  THE  SABBATH. 


JESUS  WALKING  ON  THE  WATER. 


MARK  VI.,  47-52. 


Jesus  had  sent  the  disciples  across  the  lake,  while  he  dismissed  the  crowds  who  had  been 
fed  by  miracle.  So  that  when  even  was  come  they  were  on  the  sea,  while  he  was  alone  on  the 
land.  As  they  rowed,  however,  a sudden  squall  struck  down  on  the  lake  from  the  hills  around, 
and  caught  their  vessel.  It  was  the  last  watch  of  the  night,  between  three  and  six  o’clock  in 
the  morning,  and  the  weary  boatmen  had  been  toiling  at  their  oars  since  the  night  before,  but 
though  the  whole  distance  to  be  rowed  was  only  six  miles,  they  had  made  but  two-thirds  of  the 
way.  Jesus  was  not  with  them  to  still  the  wind,  and  their  own  strength  and  skill  had  availed 
little.  But  suddenly  close  to  the  boat  they  saw,  through  the  gleam  of  the  water  and  the 
broken  light  of  the  stars,  a human  form  on  the  sea.  At  once  there  was  an  outcry,  for  they 
were  affrighted,  for  they  supposed  that  it  was  a spirit.  This  was  not  because  they  were  unlet- 
tered or  superstitious.  The  most  courageous  man  will  tremble  at  the  sight  of  what  he  sup- 
poses to  be  a being  from  the  other  world.  There  is  something  in  men  which  makes  them 
shrink  from  close  contact  with  the  world  of  spirits.  But  the  disciples’  terror  was  only  for  the 
moment.  Presently  they  heard  above  the  noise  of  winds  and  waves  the  words  of  a well-known 
voice  : “ Be  of  good  cheer,  it  is  I,  be  not  afraid."  It  is  apparently  this  juncture  in  the  narra- 
tive which  the  artist  has  taken  for  his  sketch,  which  well  suggests  the  cheering  Saviour,  the  rag- 
ing sea,  and  the  storm-tossed  boat. 

“ Jesu,  Deliverer  ! 

Come  thou  to  me  ! 

Soothe  thou  my  voyaging 
Over  life’s  sea  ! 

Thou,  when  the  storm  of  death 
Roars  sweeping  by, 

Whisper,  O Truth  of  Truth  ! 

4 Peace  ! It  is  I ! ’ ” 


JESUS  WALKING  ON  THE  WATER 


CHRIST’S  ENTRY  INTO  JERUSALEM. 


MARK  XI.,  i— xo. 


This  picture  represents  an  unexampled  scene 'in  our  Lord’s  life.  On  all  previous  occasions 
he  had  entered  Jerusalem  on  foot  and  in  the  most  unpretending  manner.  Here,  however,  he 
comes  in  royal  state,  preceded  and  followed  by  crowds  who  rend  the  air  with  exulting  shouts. 
Nor  is  this  accidental.  While  yet  at  a distance  from  the  holy  city,  as  he  was  approaching  from 
Bethany,  he  sent  for  a she-ass  with  her  foal,  belonging,  no  doubt,  to  one  of  his  disciples,  and, 
when  the  commission  was  obeyed,  he  mounted  the  animal  and  set  forth  around  the  southern 
slope  of  Olivet,  some  of  his  disciples  spreading  their  garments  in  the  way,  others  cutting  down 
branches  of  the  trees  and  strewing  them  before  him.  The  design  was  thus  once  publicly  to 
proclaim  himself  the  Messiah,  to  enter  the  holy  city,  in  accordance  with  ancient  prophecy 
(Zech.  ix.  9),  as  a king  ; not  indeed  politically,  or  in  rivalry  with  the  existing  government,  but 
as  a Prince  of  Peace,  without  arms,  or  trophies,  or  trains  of  captives.  Men  should  see  him 
openly  assuming  the  appearance  and  claims  of  the  Christ  of  God,  so  that  misconception  would 
be  no  longer  possible.  He  therefore  made  no  attempt  to  check  the  popular  feeling  in  his 
favor,  but  accepted  freely  the  loud  and  frequent  hosannahs. 

The  artist  has  evidently  caught  the  spirit  of  the  scene,  and  the  varied  postures  and  gestures 
of  the  attendant  crowd  well  convey  the  enthusiasm  of  the  occasion. 


CHRIST’S  ENTRY  INTO  JERUSALEM 


JESUS  AND  THE  TRIBUTE  MONEY. 


MARK  XII.,  13-17. 


Here  is  the  result  of  an  artful  attempt  to  embroil  the  Master  with  the  civil  authorities. 
The  Jews  were  the  unwilling  subjects  of  the  Roman  power.  So  our  Lord’s  enemies  sent  cer- 
tain persons  to  him  to  ask,  as  sincere  and  anxious  inquirers,  whether  it  were  lawful  to  give  the 
tribute  money  exacted  by  Caesar,  or  not.  If  he  answered  that  it  was  lawful,  he  would  offend 
the  ultra-national  party  among  the  people,  and  appear  to  side  with  their  oppressors.  If,  on  the 
other  hand,  he  said  it  was  wrong,  he  would  draw  down  upon  him  the  wrath  of  the . Roman 
rulers.  Danger  lay  on  either  hand,  and  extrication  seemed  impossible. 

Yet  the  plot  utterly  miscarried.  Our  Lord  perceived  the  hypocrisy  and  malice  which 
prompted  the  question,  and  answered  accordingly.  He  directed  a coin  to  be  brought,  and  then 
asked  them  whose  image  and  superscription  it  bore.  The  answer  was,  of  course,  “Caesar’s;” 
whereupon  he  said,  “ Render  unto  Caesar  the  things  that  are  Caesar’s,  and  to  God  the  things 
that  are  God’s.”  To  this  no  reply  was  possible.  The  engraving  displays  the  fine  contrast 
between  the  serene  countenance  of  Jesus  and  the  sinister  looks  of  the  hypocritical  tempters 
whom  he  thus  foiled  to  their  exceeding  astonishment. 


JESUS  AND  THE  TRIBUTE  MONEY. 


THE  WIDOW’S  MITE. 


MARK  XII,  41-44. 


In  one  of  the  fore-courts  of  the  temple  was  “the  treasury,”  where  were  received  the 
offerings  of  the  people  for  the  support  of  public  worship.  There  were  numerous  chests  with 
trumpet-shaped  openings,  into  which  the  money  was  dropped.  On  one  occasion  our  Lord 
sat  opposite  the  place,  and  observed  the  constant  stream  of  persons  of  all  classes  casting  in 
their  gifts.  Many  of  these  who  were  rich  cast  in  gold  and  silver,  but  one  poor  widow  came 
and  bestowed  only  “ two  mites,  which  make  a farthing,”  the  whole  gift  being  so  small  that 
Western  nations  have  no  coin  minute  enough  to  express  it.  In  the  illustration  her  timid, 
shrinking  form  stands  in  strong  contrast  with  the  complacent  Jew  who  is  ostentatiously  open- 
ing his  purse.  And  our  Lord  in  the  rear  is  uttering  the  words  which  have  made  the  widow’s 
gift  known  and  remembered  wherever  the  Gospel  has  been  preached.  “ Verily  I say  unto  you 
that  this  poor  widow  hath  cast  more  in  than  all  they  which  have  cast  into  the  treasury.  For 
all  they  did  cast  in  of  their  abundance  ; but  she  of  her  want  did  cast  in  all  that  she  had,  even 
all  her  living.”  The  grounds  of  the  divine  commendation  are  distinctly  specified — she  gave  all. 
She  might  have  given  one  of  the  two  mites,  but  she  gave  both — doubtless  the  entire  amount  of 
her  daily  income.  A person  so  poor  as  the  widow  would  necessarily  live  from  hand  to  mouth, 
and  possess  no  capital  except  what  she  received  from  one  source  or  another  clay  after  day. 

Her  piety  and  liberality  are  shown  in  the  fact  that  she  gave  to  the  temple  treasury  what 
cost  her  so  much.  Imperfect  men  managed  the  funds,  and  often  they  were  ill  applied  ; but 
they  were  for  the  glory  of  God,  and  she  proposed  to  do  what  she  could.  Small  as  the  gift  was 
it  was  a great  sacrifice  to  her,  and  required  very  considerable  self-denial,  and  hence  our  Lord’s 
praise.  People  often  talk  of  giving  their  mites  when  they  do  not  even  approach  the  widow’s 
generosity,  for  they  give  of  their  abundance  and  afterward  have  enough  to  spare  ; but  she  gave 
of  her  want  and  had  nothing  left.  The  next  meal’s  victuals  was  to  be  earned. 


THE  WIDOW'S  MI  I E. 


RAISING  OF  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  JAIR.US. 


LUKE  VIII.,  41-56. 


On  his  first  and  only  visit  to  Gadara,  east  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  our  Lord  was  entreated  by 
the  people  to  withdraw,  which  he  did  ; but  no  sooner  had  he  returned  to  his  own  city  than  he 
found  the  crowd  eagerly  waiting  to  receive  him,  and  among  them  one  anxious  and  heart- 
stricken  man,  Jairus,  a ruler  of  the  synagogue,  whose  daughter  lay  dying,  and  who  besought 
our  Saviour  with  all  the  passion  of  a father’s  love,  to  save  his  child.  But  the  crowd  hung  round 
the  Master,  and  the  case  of  the  suffering  woman  who,  unwilling  to  face  him,  yet  stooped  and 
touched  in  faith  the  hem  of  his  garment,  and  so  was  healed,  retarded  his  movements ; so 
that  ere  he  had  reached  the  house  news  came  that  the  young  girl  had  breathed  her  last  and  all 
was  over.  The  father,  therefore,  was  bidden  not  to  trouble  the  Master  farther  ; but  Jesus  said 
to  him,  Be  not  afraid,  only  believe. 

The  crowd  of  relatives  and  friends  that  always  throng  to  a chamber  of  death  in  the  East, 
had  already  begun  their  pitiful  cries  and  lamentations,  but  the  noise  and  confusion  was  not  in 
keeping  with  our  Lord’s  purpose.  So  he  dismissed  them  all,  and  taking  only  Peter,  James  and 
John,  with  the  father  and  the  mother  of  the  girl,  entered  the  room  where  the  body  lay,  and 
wrought  with  a word  the  wondrous  restoration.  The  illustration  represents  him  laying  his 
hand  upon  the  maiden’s  brow,  but  the  Gospel  says  that  he  took  her  by  the  hand  and  said, 
“ Maid,  arise.”  His  voice  recalled  the  departed  spirit,  and  the  anguished  mother  whose  form 
is  seen  bowed  in  speechless  agony  over  the  couch  received  her  daughter  alive  and  in  full 
health. 


RAISING  OF  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  JAIRUS. 


THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN. 


LUKE  X.,  29-37. 


The  road  from  Jerusalem  to  Jericho  leads  through  a wild  and  desolate  ravine,  which  in  our 
Lord’s  time  was  notorious  for  being  infested  with  robbers,  as  it  is  even  to-day  a dangerous  road 
for  people  to  travel  alone.  It  is  here  that  the  Saviour  laid  the  scene  of  one  of  the  most  touch- 
ing of  his  parables.  A self-righteous  lawyer  had  asked,  Who  is  my  neighbor  ? apparently 
supposing  that  the  answer  would  be  in  accordance  with  the  narrow  prejudices  of  the  Jewish 
nation  at  that  time.  So  far  from  that,  the  Master  tells  a story  of  a Jew  who,  traveling  on  the 
lonely  road  to  Jericho,  was  robbed  and  beaten,  and  left  half  dead.  Presently  there  came  along 
a priest,  and  after  him  a Levite,  who  saw  the  wounded  man,  but  gave  him  no  relief.  Both 
were  men  who,  from  their  office,  ought  to  have  been  ready  to  help  a case  of  distress,  but  they 
were  too  selfish  or  too  unfeeling  to  turn  out  of  the  way.  Then  came  another,  a Samaritan, 
belonging  to  a race  which  “had  no  dealings”  (John  iv.  9)  with  the  Jews.  He  might  have 
excused  himself  by  saying  that  this  was  Jewish  territory,  and  that  a case  of  distress  like  this 
should  be  cared  for  by  the  countrymen  of  the  sufferer.  But  he  did  nothing  of  the  sort.  He 
saw  a man  stripped  of  his  raiment  and  half  dead.  He  asked  no  questions,  but  at  once  went  to 
his  aid.  Ide  acted  as  well  as  felt.  He  spared  no  pains  or  expense  in  befriending  the  helpless 
man.  Stranger  as  he  was,  he  went  to  him,  bound  up  his  wounds,  set  him  on  his  own  beast, 
brought  him  to  an  inn,  took  care  of  him,  and  on  departing  the  next  day,  gave  the  host  money 
with  the  charge,  Take  care  of  him,  and  whatsoever  thou  spendest  more,  when  I come  again  I 
will  repay  thee. 

The  illustration  exhibits  the  generous  Samaritan  guiding  the  horse  and  keeping  poised  in 
the  saddle  the  poor  sufferer. 

No  finer  expression  is  to  be  found  in  any  literature  of  the  nature  of  genuine  charity.  It  is 
not  to  be  restricted  to  any  one  race  or  class,  but  is  to  be  world-wide  in  its  sweep.  The  only 
question  to  be  asked  is,  Is  there  real  distress,  real  need  ? If  so,  every  man  is  bound  to  render 
aid  according  to  his  means.  All  men  admire  the  orood  Samaritan,  but  all  do  not  remember 
what  the  Saviour  said  at  the  close  of  the  parable,  Go  thou  and  do  likewise.  It  may  entail  self- 
sacrifice,  in  money  and  time  and  trouble,  and  there  may  be  little  or  no  return  in  gratitude  from 
those  who  are  aided,  but  the  duty  remains  the  same.  If  it  were  universally  or  even  generally 
performed,  this  world  would  be  much  happier  than  it  is. 


THK  GOOD  SAMARITAN. 


ARRIVAL  OF  THE  SAMARITAN  AT  THE  INN. 


The  parable  is  so  moving  and  instructive  that  two  illustrations  of  its  incidents  are  given. 
Three  hours  from  Jerusalem  there  still  stands  a khan  by  the  roadside,  where  travelers  stop  for 
rest  and  refreshment.  It  was  doubtless  to  a building  of  the  same  kind,  if  not  on  the  same  spot, 
that  the  Samaritan  conveyed  the  man  whom  he  was  helping.  The  artist  represents  him  care- 
fully lifting  the  victim  of  the  robbers  off  his  beast,  while  the  host  with  outspread  arms  waits 
to  receive  him,  and  a female  figure  looks  on  from  the  balustrade  above.  The  incident  is 
worthy  of  illustration  as  bringing  vividly  before  the  mind  the  thoroughness  of  the  Samaritan’s 
kindness.  He  meets  all  the  wants  of  the  case,  and  does  not  leave  the  sufferer  until  every  need- 
ful provision  has  been  made  for  him. 

He  beheld  the  poor  man’s  need, 

Bound  his  wounds,  and  with  all  speed 
Set  him  on  his  own  good  steed, 

And  brought  him  to  the  inn. 

When  our  J udge  shall  reappear, 

Thinkest  thou  this  man  will  hear 
“ Wherefore  didst  thou  interfere 

With  what  concerned  not  thee  ? ” 

No  ! the  words  of  Christ  will  run, 

“ Whatsoever  thou  hast  done 
To  this  poor  and  suffering  one, 

That  hast  thou  done  to  me  ! ” 


ARRIVAL  OF  THE  SAMARITAN  AT  THE  INN 


THE  PRODIGAL  SON. 


LUKE  XV.,  11-32. 


The  picture  gives  the  closing  scene  of  what  has  been  called  the  pearl  of  the  parables,  one 
containing  the  very  heart  of  the  Gospel  and  stating  it  in  a narrative,  which  for  simplicity,  vivid- 
ness, grace  and  pathos  is  wholly  unequaled  in  the  Scripture  or  out  of  it.  A wayward  son 
wanders  off  from  his  father’s  house  and  squanders  his  means  in  riotous  living.  At  last  he 
comes  to  utter  want,  and  sinks  so  low  as  to  become  what  was  of  all  things  most  offensive  to  a 

<z> 

Jew,  a swineherd.  Yet  even  in  this  painful  situation  he  was  at  a loss  for  food,  and  was  glad 
to  get  “the  husks,”  or  rather  pods  of  the  carob  tree,  which  are  usually  fed  to  swine,  and  some- 
times are  eaten  by  the  very  poor.  While  thus  distressed  “ he  came  to  himself,”  and  recalled 
the  abundance  that  prevailed  in  the  happy  home  he  had  left.  Forthwith  he  resolved  to  return 
with  confession  of  his  shame  and  unworthiness,  and  ask  even  to  be  made  a hired  servant  where 
he  once  had  been  a son.  He  set  out,  but  was  not  allowed  to  fulfill  his  purpose.  While  he  was 
yet  a great  way  off  his  father  saw  him,  and  without  waiting  ran  at  once  to  receive  the  returning 
prodigal,  and  lavish  upon  him  every  token  of  his  compassionate  love,  without  a word  of  reproof 
for  the  past  or  even  admonition  for  the  present. 

It  is  this  meeting  which  stands  before  us  in  the  illustration.  The  poor  outcast,  kneeling 
with  bowed  head,  the  father  clasping  him  to  his  heart  with  a face  upturned  in  thanksgiving  to 
heaven,  the  servants  hurrying  from  all  directions  to  the  place,  and  the  dogs  barking  their 
welcome. 

The  parable  is  so  plain  that  its  meaning  cannot  be  mistaken.  The  sinner,  a voluntary  exile 
from  his  father’s  house,  his  sin  leading  to  want  and  suffering,  at  last  delusions  swept  away,  the 
sense  of  guilt  and  unworthiness  aroused,  the  humble  confession,  and  the  returning  steps  home- 
ward ; then  the  exceeding  grace  of  God  anticipating  the  uttered  petition,  more  ready  to  give 
than  we  are  to  ask,  ready  to  bestow  a full  and  immediate  forgiveness  and  to  reinstate  the 
penitent  in  the  position  he  had  so  recklessly  abandoned.  How  many  distressed  souls  in  every 
age  have  been  comforted  by  this  affecting  exhibition  of  Divine  compassion  ! 


the  prodigal  son. 


LAZARUS  AND  THE  RICH  MAN. 


LUKE  XVI. 


The  leading  features  of  this  parable  are  familiar  to  every  reader  of  Scripture.  Dives  was 
dressed  in  costly  robes  and  lived  in  splendid  luxury.  When  he  died  he  was  honored  with  a 
stately  funeral,  but  beyond  the  grave  he  “lifted  up  his  eyes  being  in  torments.”  On  the  other 
hand  there  lay  at  his  gates  a beggar  full  of  sores  which  the  dogs  licked,  and  so  abject  that  he 
longed  to  be  fed  with  what  fell  from  the  rich  man’s  table.  He,  too,  died,  and,  as  it  would 
seem,  had  only  a poor  and  hasty  interment ; but  his  soul  was  carried  by  angels  to  Abraham’s 
bosom,  that  is,  a place  of  rest,  safety,  and  bliss. 

The  whole  range  of  fiction  hardly  presents  a contrast  so  complete  and  striking  in  every 
particular.  The  illustration  exhibits  the  first  stage,  that  which  took  place  on  earth.  The  scene 
is  portrayed  with  great  liveliness  and  fidelity,  except  in  one  point  where  there  is  an  addition 
that  is  not  warranted  by  the  evangelists,  and  mars  the  teaching  of  the  parable.  One  servant  is 
represented  as  warning  off  the  beggar,  and  another  as  ready  to  enforce  the  warning  with  a 
scourge.  Not  a hint  of  this  kind  is  given  in  the  narrative.  It  does  not  appear  that  the  rich 
man  was  cruel  or  harsh,  much  less  that  he  was  an  habitual  violator  of  any  of  the  ten  command- 
ments. All  that  we  are  told  is  that  he  simply  lived  to  himself.  He  knew  that  there  were 
better  uses  to  be  made  ot  money  than  simply  to  consume  it  in  sensual  pleasures.  He  had 
within  sight  a fellow  being  in  a wretched  condition  whose  wants  he  could  easily  relieve.  But 
he  took  no  steps  in  this  direction  and  had  no  concern  whether  Lazarus  lived  or  died.  It  was 
his  selfish  unconcern  for  others  of  the  same  flesh  and  blo^d  that  ruined  him.  It  was  not  what 
he  did,  but  what  he  failed  to  do  that  drew  down  heaven’s  displeasure. 

The  Scripture  nowhere  condemns  the  rich  as  sinners  or  praises  the  poor  as  saints.  Every- 
thing depends  upon  the  way  in  which  men  conduct  themselves  in  their  varying  circumstances. 


i 


LAZARUS  AND  THli  RICH  MAN 


THE  PHARISEE  AND  THE  PUBLICAN. 


LUKE  XVIII,  9-14. 


The  great  trouble  with  the  people  of  our  Lord’s  day  was  not  the  quantity  of  their  religion, 
but  its  quality.  They  were  very  religious,  that  is,  the  body  of  the  people  as  represented  by 
the  Pharisees.  They  were  punctilious  in  devout  observances,  and  laborious  in  many  directions; 
but  all  was  cold,  dry  and  formal,  a body  without  a soul.  Men  were  puffed  up  with  a sense  of 
their  own  excellence,  and  looked  with  contempt  upon  others.  To  meet  this  case,  the  Saviour 
uttered  the  parable  which  is  finely  expressed  in  the  illustration  before  us. 

Two  men  went  up  to  the  temple  to  pray.  One,  the  Pharisee,  thanked  God  that  he  was  not 
as  other  men,  and  recited  the  number  of  his  fasts  and  the  extent  of  his  tithes.  His  prayer  was 
simply  a recital  of  his  own  merits.  It  contained  no  confession  and  no  petition,  no  acknowl- 
edgment of  sin  and  no  supplication  for  pardon.  And  the  proud  profession  of  excellence  was 
accompanied  with  an  uncharitable  reflection  upon  a brother  sinner — “or  even  as  this  publican.” 
And  so  he  stands  in  the  plate,  a picture  of  self-satisfaction  and  pride.  And  yet  he  was  in  a 
most  dangerous  condition.  No  man  is  in  such  a hopeless  state  as  he  who  is  not  sensible  of 
his  sins.  His  case  is  the  case  of  a sick  man  who  has  no  more  pain  because  mortification  has 
set  in. 

The  publican  pursued  a course  exactly  opposite.  He  stood  afar  off  as  if  unworthy  to  draw 
near.  He  smote  upon  his  heart  in  token  of  contrition.  He  offered  a most  becoming  prayer. 
It  was  a real  prayer,  asking  for  a great  spiritual  blessing.  It  was  a personal  prayer.  Unlike 
the  Pharisee  he  had  nothing  to  say  about  other  people,  but  expressed  his  own  pressing  wants. 
It  was  an  humble  prayer,  “ Be  merciful  to  me  a sinner,”  or  rather,  according  to  the  original, 
“to  me  the  sinner.”  He  felt  that  he  was  a great  sinner,  with  no  excuse  to  make,  no  pleas  to 
offer.  And  so  he  asks  for  mercy,  i.  c.,  the  bestowment  of  that  to  which  in  himself  he  has  no 
claim.  And  the  word  he  uses  is  one  that  implies  a reference  to  propitiation  as  the  ground  of 
confidence. 

The  result  was  in  accordance  with  the  character  of  the  prayers.  The  Pharisee  took  noth- 
ing by  his  act  of  worship.  The  publican,  on  the  contrary,  went  home  justified.  And  so  it 
ever  is.  He  that  exalteth  himself  shall  be  abased,  and  he  that  humbleth  himself  shall  be 
exalted.  Humility  is  among  the  first  and  foremost  graces  of  the  Christian  character. 


THE  PHARISEE  AND  THE  PUBLICAN. 


JESUS  AND  THE  WOMAN  OF  SAMARIA. 

JOHN  IV.,  1-30. 


Among  the  few  ancient  sites  in  Palestine  which  are  certainly  determined  is  the  well  of 
Sychar,  known  from  extreme  antiquity  as  “Jacob’s  Well.”  Although  neglected,  and  sometimes 
filled  up  by  the  ignorant  Mohammedans  around,  it  is  still  to  be  visited  and  its  water  tasted. 
Here  our  Saviour,  on  his  way  to  Galilee,  one  day  at  noon  rested,  while  his  disciples  went  to  the 
neighboring  city  to  buy  bread.  As  he  sat  upon  the  well-curb  there  came  a woman  to  draw 
water,  as  is  the  custom  for  women  in  that  country  to  this  day.  To  her  great  surprise  our  Lord 
entered  into  conversation  with  her,  asking  her  to  give  him  to  drink,  and  then  offering  to  give 
her  the  living  water  that  springeth  up  unto  everlasting  life.  Afterward  he  shewed  that  he  knew 
her  previous  history  as  living  with  one  who  was  not  her  husband,  and  proclaimed  himself  to  her 
as  the  Messiah  who  was  to  come.  The  woman  was  so  impressed  that  she  left  her  water-pot 
and  went  to  the  city,  to  tell  what  she  had  heard.  When  the  disciples  returned  they  were  aston- 
ished to  find  him  conversing  with  a woman,  and  that  woman  a Samaritan.  They  failed  to  see 
the  tender  grace  of  their  Lord,  who  gave  up  his  own  rest  for  the  sake  of  teaching  the  daughter 
of  an  alien  race,  and  who  revealed  his  mission  even  to  a woman  that  was  a sinner. 

The  illustration  presents  the  scene  with  grace  and  power.  The  well  is  given,  not  as  it  now 
is,  but  as  it  doubtless  was  in  the  days  of  our  Lord’s  flesh.  The  touching  story  is  still  full  of 
suggestiveness. 

“ Sweet  was  the  hour,  O Lord,  to  thee 
At  Sychar’s  lonely  well, 

When  a poor  outcast  heard  thee  there 
Thy  great  salvation  tell. 

“And,  Lord,  to  us,  as  vile  as  she, 

Thy  gracious  lips  have  told 
That  mystery  of  love,  revealed 
At  Jacob’s  well  of  old.” 


JESUS  AND  THE  WOMAN  OF  SAMARIA. 


. 


* 


• 

' 

JESUS  AND  THE  WOMAN  TAKEN  IN  ADULTERY, 


JOHN  VIII.,  3-1 1. 


The  genuineness  of  this  passage  in  John’s  Gospel  has  long  been  questioned.  It  is  con- 
ceded by  most  critical  scholars  that  it  was  not  a part  of  the  original  writing,  but  is  a genuine 
apostolical  tradition,  which  in  some  way  became  incorporated  with  the  text.  In  itself  it  is 
certainly  a most  appropriate  and  significant  record,  so  much  like  our  Saviour’s  method  that 
it  could  hardly  have  been  invented. 

Men  brought  to  him  a fallen  woman  whose  sin  was  manifest  and  undeniable,  and  asked  him 
what  was  to  be  done  with  her,  saying  that  the  law  commanded  that  such  should  be  stoned. 
Our  Lord  stooped  down,  and  with  his  fingers  wrote  upon  the  ground  as  though  he  heard  them 
not — thus  expressing,  in  the  gentlest  way,  that  it  was  not  his  duty  to  interfere  with  the  ad- 
ministration of  justice.  But,  determined  to  entrap  him,  they  continued  their  questions,  where- 
upon he  arose  and  administered  a pungent  rebuke,  “ He  that  is  without  sin  among  you,  let 

him  first  cast  a stone  at  her.”  Lie  did  not  justify  the  woman  or  palliate  her  sins,  but  reminded 

her  accusers  that  they  as  witnesses  were,  by  the  law,  to  be  the  executioners.  Could  they  be 
so  ? Did  they  themselves  have  clear  consciences  as  to  the  Seventh  Commandment  ? And 
then  he  resumed  his  writing  upon  the  ground.  But  they  being  convicted  by  their  own  con- 
science, went  out,  one  by  one,  beginning  at  the  eldest  even  unto  the  last. 

The  illustration  tells  the  story.  The  crouching  penitent,  imploring  yet  shrinking,  the 

scowling  Pharisees,  and  the  dignified  Saviour  with  the  marks  on  the  ground  where  he  wrote. 

The  incident  illustrates  the  superhuman  wisdom  and  grace  of  our  Lord.  His  foes  come, 
remembering  how  he  had  eaten  with  publicans  and  sinners,  and  allowed  a penitent  harlot  to 
wash  his  feet  with  her  tears  and  wipe  them  with  her  hair,  and  they  bring  this  case  hoping  to 
induce  him  to  say  something  that  would  either  contradict  the  law  of  Moses  or  his  own  words. 
Yet,  so  far  from  putting  him  to  shame  they  were  put  to  shame  themselves.  And  as  for  the 
poor  woman,  the  Lord  dismisses  her  in  the  most  becoming  way.  “ Neither  do  I condemn 
thee.”  It  is  not  my  province  to  act  the  civil  judge  or  to  pronounce  any  sentence.  But  lest 
she  might  think  that  her  offense  was  light  or  trivial,  he  adds  the  words,  “ Go  and  sin  no  more.” 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  LAZARUS. 


JOHN  XI. 


The  picture  is  quite  true  to  archaeology  in  representing  the  grave  as  a loculus  or  recess  cut 
in  the  side  of  a natural  cave  and  closed  by  a huge  stone  fitted  into  a groove.  Here  the  slab  is 
seen  thrust  aside,  and  the  sheeted  dead  walking  forth  to  the  surprise  of  the  beholders. 

The  event  itself  is  the  third  of  the  kind.  Before,  our  Lord  had  raised  up  the  daughter  of 
Jairus  soon  after  her  death,  and  had  resuscitated  the  only  son  of  his  mother  when  at  Nain,  the 
funeral  procession  was  on  the  way  to  the  cemetery.  But  here  the  case  was  that  of  one  who 

had  lain  for  days  in  the  tomb.  The  whole  narrative  is  extremely  touching.  Jesus  is  away  in 

Perea  when  he  hears  of  the  sickness  of  Lazarus,  but  he  does  not  stir  ; afterwards  when  death 
has  ensued  he  goes  to  the  bereaved  family.  He  meets  Martha,  and  after  receiving  her  implied 
reproach,  utters  the  sublime  and  comforting  words,  “ I am  the  resurrection  and  the  life  : he 
that  believeth  in  me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live.  And  whosoever  liveth  and 
believeth  in  me  shall  never  die.”  Then  he  meets  the  other  sister,  and  groaning  in  spirit  at  her 
deep  sorrow,  mingles  his  tears  with  hers,  and  the  Jews  say,  “ Behold,  how  he  loved  him.” 
Coming  to  the  tomb  he  orders  the  stone  to  be  rolled  away.  Even  yet  Martha  could  not 
believe  in  the  great  blessing  she  was  to  receive,  and  remonstrated.  But  the  answer  came, 
“ Said  I not  unto  thee  that  if  thou  wouldst  believe,  thou  shouldst  see  the  glory  of  God  ? ” 
Then  after  a thanksgiving’  to  his  Father,  the  Lord  uttered  the  words  which  reached  the  ears 
of  the  dead,  “ Lazarus,  come  forth,”  and  the  miracle  was  accomplished. 

But  what  was  life  to  Lazarus  was  death  to  his  benefactor.  I he  parties  were  so  well 

known,  the  family  was  of  so  much  social  importance,  the  witnesses  were  so  many  and  various, 

and  the  miracle  itself  was  so  astounding,  that  from  that  moment  the  enemies  of  our  Lord  came 
to  the  deliberate  and  express  determination  that  he  must  die.  The  only  question  was  as  to 
the  time  and  the  opportunity,  not  at  all  as  to  the  fact.  For  in  no  other  way,  as  they  supposed, 
could  they  save  themselves  and  maintain  the  existing  posture  of  affairs  in  church  and  state. 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  LAZARUS. 


MARY  MAGDALENE. 


MARK  XVI,  9. 


T he  illustration  presents  the  form  of  a broken-hearted  penitent,  bowing  before  a skull  amid 
surroundings  of  a somber  and  awful  character.  It  is  therefore  a just  delineation  of  a fallen 
woman  who,  in  deep  abasement,  bewails  her  sin.  But  it  is  in  no  sense  or  degree  a picture  of 
Mary  of  Magdala.  The  prevalent  notion  that  she  was  “a  sinner”  is  an  ecclesiastical  tradition 
which  has  not  an  atom  of  support  in  the  Scripture  narrative.  It  is  true  that  Mary  was 
“possessed  of  seven  devils,”  who  were  cast  out  by  our  Lord.  But  demoniacal  possession  is 
not  an  impeachment  of  moral  character.  Nor  is  there  anything  recorded  of  Mary  which 
countenances  such  a suspicion.  She  was  a woman  of  position  and  means,  and  the  head  of  the 
band  of  Galilean  women  who  accompanied  our  Lord  on  his  later  journeys  and  ministered 
to  his  wants.  One  of  these  women  was  the  wife  of  an  important  officer  in  the  household  of 
Herod  Antipas.  Surely  such  persons  would  not  have  chosen  as  their  leader  one  whose 
reputation  had  previously  been  tainted. 

Mary’s  gratitude  for  her  deliverance  from  demoniacal  possession  led  her  to  attach  herself 
to  the  service  of  the  Master  with  singular  affection.  She  was  last  at  the  cross  and  first  at  the 
sepulcher.  And  at  the  early  dawn  of  the  first  day  of  the  week  she  went  with  her  companions 
with  spices  to  embalm  that  sacred  person  which  she  had  seen  so  cruelly  treated.  Even  the 
death  of  Jesus  did  not  impair  her  devoted  attachment.  And  as  a fitting  record  for  her  extra- 
ordinary love,  to  her  was  granted  the  first  sight  of  the  risen  Saviour. 

It  is  a pity  that  the  memory  of  such  an  eminent  disciple  should  be  tarnished  for  so  many 
ages  by  being  associated  with  houses  of  refuge  for  the  fallen  of  her  sex — as  if  she  had  ever 
been  of  the  number. 


MARY  MAGDALENE. 


THE  LAST  SUPPER. 


MATTHEW  XXVI,  26-29. 


This  theme  has  often  been  treated  by  artists,  and  the  famous  fresco  of  Leonardo  at  Milan 
is  familiar  by  copies  at  least  to  all.  Yet  is  the  work  of  Dore  quite  worthy  of  him  and  of  the 
occasion.  The  Master’s  countenance,  the  youthful  John  on  his  right,  and  the  blended  eager- 
ness and  apprehension  of  the  rest  of  the  group,  well  befit  the  institution  of  that  tender  and 
solemn  sacrament  which  is  to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  his  sacrificial  death  till  time  shall  be 
no  more. 

It  is  a characteristic  manifestation  of  the  Saviour’s  love  that  “ the  night  in  which  he  was 
betrayed,”  and  only  a few  hours  before  his  passion,  he  occupied  himself  with  what  would  be 
for  the  comfort  of  his  people  in  instituting  this  blessed  rite.  The  broken  bread  was  to  remind 
them  of  the  body  given  to  death  on  the  cross,  and  the  poured  out  wine,  of  the  blood  shed  for 
the  remission  of  sins.  Both  elements  together  were  a memorial  of  the  one  great  sacrifice  by 
which  guilt  is  expiated  and  pardon  secured.  And  hence  in  all  ages  believers  have  delighted  to 
obey  the  dying  command.  Each  has  been  ready  to  say 

When  to  the  cross  I turn  mine  eyes, 

And  rest  on  Calvary, 

O Lamb  of  God,  my  sacrifice, 

I must  remember  thee. 


THE  LAST  SUPPER. 


THE  AGONY  IN  THE  GARDEN. 


LUKE  XXII. 


On  the  western  slope  of  the  Mount  of  Olives  there  is  still  shown  an  inclosure  having  some 
very  venerable  olive  trees,  which  is  called  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane.  It  may  or  may  not  be 
the  exact  spot,  but  somewhere  in  this  vicinity  was  the  place  consecrated  by  the  passion  of 
our  Lord. 

Here  he  bore  the  chastisement  of  our  peace.  Here  he  endured  the  travail  of  soul  required 
for  a world’s  ransom.  On  him  there  rested  at  that  hour  a load  of  grief  compared  with  which 
the  aggregated  sorrows  of  the  human  family,  before  and  since,  are  nothing.  “Yes,  if  we  could 
collect  the  tears  of  widowed  wives,  and  childless  mothers,  and  forsaken  orphans,  the  cries  of 
every  battle-held,  the  groans  of  every  hospital,  the  shrieks  of  every  torture-room,  the  unheard 
sobs  which  have  been  stilled  in  the  prison-house,  and  all  those  deeper  agonies  which  never  find 
expression — they  would  be  as  nothing  to  the  single  pang  which  wrung  his  heart  upon  that 
awful  night.” 

The  picture  has  given  some  of  the  lines  of  sinless  sorrow  which  marred  the  Redeemer’s 
face,  but  art  has  no  line  long  enough  to  sound  that  deep,  deep  sea  to  the  bottom.  The  agony 
was  so  great  that  it  forced  the  sweat  like  drops  of  blood,  out  of  every  pore,  and  there  was 
needed  a white-winged  angel  from  heaven  to  impart  strength  to  his  tottering  bodily  frame. 


IRlllllife 


THE  AGONY  IN  THE  GARDEN. 


PRAYER  OF  JESUS  IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  OLIVES. 


MATTHEW  XXVI.,  36-45. 


When  Jesus  came  to  Gethsemane,  he  bade  his  disciples  wait  while  he,  taking  Peter,  James, 
and  John,  went  forward  to  pray.  The  four  pass  in  among  the  olive  trees  till  their  forms  are 
lost  from  sight.  Then  three  of  them  recline  on  the  ground,  while  the  Master  presses  on  into 
a deeper  shade  and  a remoter  solitude,  and  there,  not  as  the  picture  presents  him,  upright,  but 
prone  on  the  ground,  he  prays  that  if  it  were  possible  the  cup  might  pass  from  him. 

The  prayer  is  remarkable  for  its  combination  of  earnestness  and  submission.  "O  my 
Father,  if  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from  me  : nevertheless  not  as  I will,  but  as  thou 
wilt.”  His  human  nature  shrinks  from  the  unutterable  agony  and  cries  out  for  relief ; yet  still, 
overborne  as  he  is  by  the  crushing  load,  he  submits  to  his  P'ather’s  will.  Thrice  the  prayer  is 
repeated,  and  thrice  the  qualifying  clause.  Meanwhile  the  three  chosen  companions  are  sleep- 
ing. He  rouses  them  once  and  again,  but  still  they  sleep,  sleep  at  that  dread  moment  when 
the  captain  of  their  salvation  is  made  perfect  through  suffering. 


PRAYER  OF  JESUS  IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  OLIVES. 


THE  BETRAYAL. 


LUKE  XXII. 


It  was  while  our  Lord  was  remonstrating  with  the  disciples  for  their  sloth  that  the  glare  of 
torches  was  seen  through  the  olive  trees  and  the  noise  of  the  approaching  soldiers  heard. 
Presently  the  whole  band  appeared,  and  Judas  gave  the  appointed  signal  to  the  rest  by  going 
up  to  the  Master  with  the  hypocritical  salutation,  “ Hail,  Rabbi,”  and  kissing  him  tenderly."' 
So  was  accomplished  the  most  enormous  wickedness  the  earth  has  seen. 

The  enemies  of  our  Lord  were  fully  determined  upon  his  death,  but  were  at  a loss  how  to 
accomplish  it,  since  he  had  numerous  friends  and  they  were  afraid  of  making  an  uproar  among 
the  people  if  they  arrested  him  in  open  day.  But  they  were  relieved  from  their  embarrassment 
in  a most  unexpected  way.  One  of  his  own  disciples  offered  to  betray  him.  They  eagerly 
accepted  the  offer,  and  paid  him  for  his  crime  the  despicable  sum  of  thirty  pieces  of  silver — the 
price  of  a slave.  The  wretched  man  fulfilled  his  bargain,  as  shown  in  the  illustration.  The 
only  reproof  he  received  from  the  Being  whom  he  so  cruelly  injured  was,  “Judas,  betrayest 
thou  the  Son  of  man  with  a kiss  ? ” The  serene  sorrow  and  dignified  calm  of  the  Saviour  con- 
trast finely  with  the  eager  and  excited  look  of  his  betrayer. 

The  plain  statements  of  Scripture  forbid  the  belief  that  Judas  was  actuated  by  any  other 
motive  than  avarice.  But  he  seems  to  have  supposed  that  our  Lord  would  in  some  way  extri- 
cate himself  from  the  hand  of  his  foes.  When  he  saw  that  this  was  not  done,  but  that  trial  and 
condemnation  were  to  be  followed  by  crucifixion,  remorse  seized  upon  his  soul,  and  he  hurried 
away  to  the  temple  to  cast  down  his  ill-gotten  silver  and  proclaim  the  innocence  of  the  man  he 
had  betrayed.  This  did  not  alter  the  result,  but  it  added  his  testimony  to  that  of  all  others 
who  knew  our  Lord,  to  the  fact  that  he  was  without  sin. 


* This  is  the  full  meaning  of  the  word  used  in  Mark  xiv.,  45. 


wmmM 


T1JE  BETRAYAL. 


- 


■ 


CHRIST  FAINTING  UNDER  THE  CROSS. 


MARK  XV.,  21. 


One  of  the  aggravations  of  crucifixion  was  that  the  victim  was  compelled  to  carry  the 
instrument  of  his  torture  to  the  place  of  execution.  Our  Lord  was  not  spared  this  added 
humiliation.  Faint  with  vigils  of  the  preceding  night,  with  the  rudeness  and  insults  of  the 
crowd  and  the  terrible  scourging,  he  sank  under  the  weight  of  his  burden.  The  guard  grew 
impatient,  and  seizing  a foreign-born  Jew,  just  coming  in  from  the  country,  compelled  him  to 
share  the  load. 

The  finely-drawn  illustration  reproduces  with  great  force  the  fallen  form  of  the  Master  and 
the  sturdy  limbs  of  his  involuntary  companion. 


CHRIST  FAINTING  UNI) K R TIIE  CROSS. 


THE  FLAGELLATION. 


MARK  XV.,  15. 


This  painful  picture  represents  a scene  from  which  one  would  fain  hide  his  eyes.  The 
sacred  person  of  the  Redeemer  was  subjected  to  the  brutal  scourging  of  Roman  lictors — a 
punishment  which  usually  preceded  crucifixion.  The  artist  has  well  represented  the  meek 
endurance  of  the  thorn-crowned  sufferer.  He  felt  every  stroke,  but  he  murmured  not,  threat- 
ened not. 

This  infliction  was  but  one  item  in  a series-  Yet  it  has  peculiar  interest  to  believers, 
in  view  of  its  relation  to  ancient  prophecy.  In  the  remarkable  prediction  of  the  suffering 
Messiah,  in  Isaiah  (liii.),  it  is  said  of  him,  “and  with  his  stripes  we  are  healed” — words  which 
long  afterwards  were  quoted  by  the  Apostle  Peter  (I.  ii.,  24),  in  setting  forth  the  nature  and 
cause  of  our  Lord’s  sufferings.  The  heavy  rods  swung  in  the  air,  and  coming  down  with 
tremendous  force  upon  the  Redeemer  were  to  him  torture  and  dishonor,  but  to  his  people  just 
the  reverse — the  chastisement  which  procures  their  peace,  the  expiation  that  heals  and  saves 
their  souls. 

What  thou,  my  Lord,  hast  suffered 
Was  all  for  sinners’  gain  : 

Mine,  mine,  was  the  transgression, 

But  thine  the  deadly  pain. 

Lo  ! here  1 fall,  my  Saviour  : 

’Tis  I deserve  thy  place  : 

Look  on  me  with  thy  favor, 

Vouchsafe  to  me  thy  grace. 


THE  CRUCIFIXION. 


MATTHEW  XXVII.,  45-49. 


Death  by  the  cross  was  the  most  dreaded  and  shameful  punishment  of  antiquity,  one  the 
very  name  of  which,  Cicero  said,  should  never  come  near  the  thoughts,  the  eyes,  or  ears,  of  a 
Roman  citizen,  far  less  his  person.  It  was  wholly  unknown  to  the  Jews  ; a cruelty  inflicted  by 
heathenism,  which  had  no  compassion  or  reverence  for  man  as  man,  upon  the  worst  of  crimi- 
nals. Yet  this  was  the  death  by  which  the  Saviour  of  men  was  doomed  to  die.  He  hung  in 
the  midst  between  two  highway  robbers,  as  if  the  worst  of  the  three. 

Although  men  were  so  indifferent  to  the  scene,  Nature  was  not.  The  earth  quaked,  the 
rocks  were  rent,  the  sun  was  hid.  It  is  this  latter  token  of  sympathy  which  furnished  the 
motive  of  the  picture.  Darkness  overhangs  the  place,  but  a single  sheet  of  lightning  illumines 
the  figure  of  our  Lord.  Amid  the  gloom  are  seen  the  mounted  soldiers  overseeing  the  tragedy, 
while  by  the  side  of  one  of  the  rent  rocks  stand  the  veiled  figures  of  the  holy  women  who  were 
determined,  even  if  all  else  forsook  him  and  fled,  to  stand  by  him  to  the  last  and  to  show  their 
undiminished  affection.  “ Love  is  strong  as  death.” 

o 


THE  CRUCIFIXION 


CLOSE  OF  THE  CRUCIFIXION. 


MATTHEW  XXVII.,  50-53. 


Here  the  artist  represents  the  effect  of  one  of  the  miraculous  features  of  this  extraordinary 
scene — the  tremendous  earthquake  which  rent  the  rocks  and  shook  the  whole  mount.  The 
Roman  guard,  veterans  of  many  a well-fought  held,  flee  in  dismay.  They  are  strong  enough 
to  cope  with  mortal  men,  but  powerless  before  a convulsion  of  nature.  The  whole  array,  not 
merely  the  mounted  men  in  the  foreground,  but  the  troops  in  the  rear,  are  in  motion  as  if  seek- 
ing a place  of  security.  In  serene  contrast  with  them  are  the  female  forms  seen  clustering 
around  the  foot  of  the  cross.  They  neither  fainted  nor  went  into  hysterics,  but  calm  and  self- 
controlled  maintained  their  loving  watch  unto  the  end.  Not  even  the  trembling  earth  nor  the 
cleaving  rocks  could  shake  their  constancy,  any  more  than  could  the  crowd  of  taunting  Jews 
and  rough  Roman  soldiers.  The  fortitude  of  woman,  when  resting  upon  faith  and  love,  is  quite 
unconquerable. 

“ Not  she  with  trait’rous  kiss  her  Saviour  stung, 

Not  she  denied  him  with  unholy  tongue  ; 

She,  while  apostles  shrank,  could  danger  brave, 

Last  at  his  cross,  and  earliest  at  his  grave. 


CLOSE  OF  THE  CRUCIFIXION 


THE  BURIAL  OF  JESUS. 


JOHN  XIX.,  38-42. 


According  to  prophecy,  our  Lord  was  not  only  to  die,  but  to  give  full  assurance  of  the  fact 
by  being  buried.  As  he  himself  said  (Matt,  xii.,  40),  “ the  Son  of  man  should  be  three  days 
and  three  nights  [/.  e.,  according  to  the  Hebrew  use  of  terms,  one  day  and  two  nights  or  parts 
of  three  days]  in  the  heart  of  the  earth.”  A rich  disciple,  named  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  had 
influence  enough  with  Pilate  to  obtain  the  body  of  fesus,  which  otherwise  would  have  been 
treated  with  ignominy.  With  him  was  joined  Nicodemus,  the  same  who  had  once  come  to 
Jesus  by  night,  and  who  now  showed  more  reverence  and  honor  to  our  Lord  when  dead  than 
he  had  ever  done  when  alive.  Near  Calvary  was  a garden,  and  in  the  garden  a new  sepulcher 
wherein  was  never  man  yet  laid.  This  was  the  property  of  Joseph,  who  had  hewn  it  out  in  the 
rock.  In  this  Jesus  was  laid  by  his  two  friends.  While  our  Lord  lived  he  had  no  house  of 
his  own,  and  when  he  died  he  was  buried  in  another  man’s  tomb. 

The  plate  shows  the  little  procession,  the  two  men  reverently  and  tenderly  carrying  the 
sacred  body,  and  the  devout  women  accompanying. 


THE  BURIAL  OF  JESUS, 


THE  ANGEL  AT  THE  SEPULCHER. 


MATTHEW  XXVIII.,  1-7. 


The  record  of  our  Lord’s  funeral  ends  with  the  statement  that  Mary  Magdalene  and  the 
other  Mary  were  sitting  over  against  the  sepulcher.  The  record  of  his  resurrection  begins 
with  the  visit  of  the  same  persons  to  the  place  of  burial. 

They  came  to  anoint  his  body,  and  at  first  were  perplexed  to  know  how  they  could  get  the 
stone  rolled  away  that  secured  the  tomb.  But  they  were  speedily  relieved  from  their  embarrass- 
ment. There  had  been  an  earthquake  caused  by  the  descent  of  an  angel  of  the  Lord,  who, 
coming  down  from  the  abodes  of  glory,  rolled  away  the  stone  from  the  door  and  sat  upon  it. 
He,  of  course,  as  an  object  of  sight  had  a human  form,  but  that  form  was  brilliant  beyond  con- 
ception. A supernatural  brightness  shone  out  in  his  person  and  his  raiment.  The  dazzling 
purity  of  a heavenly  state  took  on  an  outward  manifestation  to  mortal  eyes. 

The  effect  of  this  sight  upon  the  guards  was  overpowering.  They  “ shook  and  became  as 
dead  men.”  Why?  Because  the  consciousness  of  sin  paralyzes  the  strongest  arm.  If  men 
were  holy,  the  apparition  of  one  from  the  unseen  world  would  create  no  fear.  In  the  women 
something  of  the  same  feeling  was  awakened,  but  it  was  soon  dispelled  by  the  voice  of  the 
angel,  saying,  “Fear  not  ye:  for  I know  that  ye  seek  Jesus  which  was  crucified.  He  is  not 
here  : for  he  is  risen,  as  he  said  : come,  see  the  place  where  the  Lord  lay.” 

It  was  fitting  that  an  angel  should  be  sent  to  announce  an  event  of  such  transcendent  im- 
portance, the  corner-stone  of  the  Christian  church,  and  of  the  civilization  of  eighteen  centuries. 


THE  ANGEL  AT  THE  SEPULCHER. 


THE  JOURNEY  TO  EMMAUS. 


LUKE  XXIV.,  13-32. 


Opposers  of  the  Christian  system  have  often  said  that  the  resurrection  of  Christ  was  not  an 
actual  event,  but  a hope  which  gradually  assumed  the  appearance  of  a fact.  The  conversation 
of  the  group  in  this  picture  shows  how  unfounded  is  the  assumption  that  the  disciples  expected 
our  Lord  to  rise  ao;ain. 

On  the  day  when  he  rose  two  of  his  disciples  were  on  the  way  to  Emmaus,  a village  seven 
or  eight  miles  north-west  of  Jerusalem,  and  engaged  in  earnest  discourse  about  the  events 
which  had  taken  place.  A stranger  overtook  them  and  inquired  into  the  subject  of  their  con- 
versation. After  a natural  expression  of  surprise  at  his  apparent  ignorance,  they  spoke  of 
Jesus  as  a prophet  and  of  his  condemnation  and  crucifixion,  saying,  “We  trusted  that  it  had 
been  he  which  should  redeem  Israel  ; but,  indeed,  beside  all  this,  to-day  is  the  third  day  since 
these  things  were  done.”  Then  they  added  that  certain  women  had  been  told  by  angels  that 
Jesus  was  alive,  and  in  fact  they  found  his  tomb  empty,  but  him  they  saw  not. 

Then  occurred  what  the  illustration  presents.  The  stranger,  who  was  the  Master,  reproved 
them  as  (not  “ fools,”  but  ) dull  of  understanding  and  slow  to  believe  what  the  prophets  had 
spoken,  and  he  expounded  to  them  the  Scriptures  concerning  himself,  beginning  at  Moses  and 
going  through  all  the  prophets.  What  a discourse  that  must  have  been!  Imagination  can 
conceive  the  outward  scene  as  it  is  here  set  forth  by  the  artist,  but  who  of  mortal  men  could 
reproduce  the  words  of  him  who  spake  as  never  man  spake?  No  wonder  that  the  two  after- 
ward said,  Did  not  our  heart  burn  within  us  while  he  talked  by  the  way,  and  while  he  opened 
to  us  the  Scriptures  ? 


THE  JOURNEY  TO  KMMAUS. 


THE  ASCENSION, 


LUKE  XXIV.,  50-53. 


Here  is  portrayed  the  wondrous  miracle  by  which  our  Lord  concluded  his  sojourn  on  earth. 
He  would  not  simply  vanish  from  his  disciples  as  he  had  done  at  times  from  his  foes.  He 
woidcl  show  them,  as  far  as  it  could  be  shown,  that  he  returned  from  earth  to  heaven,  that 
God  took  him  to  himself.  His  translation,  therefore,  was  not  like  Enoch’s,  known  only  from 
the  fact  of  his  disappearance,  nor  was  it  like  Elijah’s,  in  a whirlwind  with  horses  of  fire  and 
chariots  of  fire.  On  the  contrary,  having  given  his  parting  injunctions,  the  Master  led  his 
disciples  to  the  Mount  of  Olives  as  far  as  Bethany,  and  there  in  broad  day  and  in  full  view  of 
all,  he  was  taken  up  into  heaven,  and  that  in  the  act  of  pronouncing  a blessing  upon  them. 

The  illustration  gives  the  incident  with  great  force  and  beauty.  The  Master’s  ascending 
form  relieved  against  a clear  sky,  seems  to  float  with  ease  as  it  is  borne  upward  by  an  inherent 
power.  The  group  below  stand  fixed  in  wonder  and  admiration,  and  continue  to  gaze  long 
after  a cloud  has  received  him  out  of  their  sight. 

“ He  is  gone,  and  we  remain 
In  this  world  of  sin  and  pain  : 

In  the  void  which  he  has  left, 

On  this  earth  of  him  bereft. 

We  have  still  his  work  to  do, 

We  can  still  his  path  pursue  ; 

Seek  him  both  in  friend  and  foe, 

In  ourselves  his  image  show.” 


THE  ASCENSION. 


THE  MARTYRDOM  OF  ST.  STEPHEN. 


ACTS  VII.,  54-60. 


The  long  list  of  bloody  persecutions  suffered  by  the  Christian  church  begins  with  the  name 
of  Stephen.  He  was  a foreign-born  Jew  who  was  early  converted  to  the  faith,  and  was  chosen 
to  be  one  of  the  first  band  of  deacons.  He  is  spoken  of  as  “ full  of  faith  and  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,”  and  again  as  “ full  of  grace  and  power,”  and  doing  great  wonders  among  the  people. 
H is  success  excited  the  hostility  of  other  Jews  of  foreign  birth,  who  disputed  with  him,  but 
were  not  able  to  resist  the  wisdom  and  the  spirit  by  which  he  spoke.  They,  therefore,  dragged 
him  before  the  council  on  suborned  charges  of  blaspheming  Moses  and  God. 

Here,  put  upon  his  defense,  the  holy  man  delivered  an  eloquent  speech,  reciting  the  main 
facts  of  Hebrew  history,  and  showing  the  temporary  nature  of  the  ceremonial  law  and  of 
the  temple  as  a part  of  it,  and  then  concluding  with  a terrible  invective  of  the  nation  as  re- 
bellious and  unfaithful  from  the  beofinninq  until  now.  His  faithful  utterance  excited  a burst  of 
wrath,  and  with  one  accord  his  hearers  rushed  upon  him  and  cast  him  out  of  the  city  and 
stoned  him.  This  the  picture  represents  with  great  animation,  but  the  utterances  of  the  dying 
martyr  it  does  not  and  cannot  convey.  According  to  the  inspired  narrative,  he  called  upon 
the  Saviour,  saying,  “ Lord  Jesus,  receive  my  spirit;”  and  then  again,  with  his  last  breath  he 
cried  with  a loud  voice,  “ Lord,  lay  not  this  sin  to  their  charge,” — thus  closely  imitating  the 
Saviour  for  whom  he  died,  and  furnishing  a brilliant  example  for  all  those  in  after  times  who 
should  be  “slain  for  the  word  of  God  and  for  the  testimony  which  they  held.” 


THE  MARTYRDOM  OF  ST.  STEPHEN. 


SAUL’S  CONVERSION. 


ACTS  IX. 


The  Apostle  Paul  was  the  youngest  member  of  the  apostolic  college,  or,  as  he  describes 
himself,  “one  born  out  of  clue  time.”  Yet  he  surpassed  all  the  rest  in  the  extent  and  useful- 
ness of  his  labors  in  the  Gospel.  Such  were  his  gifts  natural  and  acquired,  such  were  his  zeal, 
energy,  decision  and  courage,  such  his  generosity,  humility,  faith  and  love,  such  his  self-sacrifice 
and  devotion,  that  all  candid  observers  consider  him  one  of  the  greatest  spirits  of  all  time. 
Appointed  to  do  a work  of  unequaled  importance,  he  fulfilled  his  course,  and  impressed  him- 
self, as  no  other  man  ever  did,  upon  his  contemporaries  and  upon  all  succeeding  generations. 

The  starting  point  of  his  career,  his  conversion,  is  fully  set  forth  in  the  Scripture. 
Although  like  all  other  conversions  in  its  essential  features,  it  was  attended  by  very  remarkable 
circumstances.  The  apostle  had  been  an  unwearied  and  unrelenting  persecutor,  sparing 
neither  age  nor  sex  in  his  fiery  zeal.  Having  made  havoc  of  the  church  in  Jerusalem,  he  set 
out  for  Damascus  to  carry  on  his  bloody  work  there,  but  he  was  strangely  arrested  on  the  way. 
Suddenly  at  noon  there  shone  around  him  a light  from  heaven,  a supernatural  splendor  which 
exceeded  that  of  the  meridian  sun.  This,  as  the  illustration  shows,  struck  him  to  the  earth  ; 
and  there  he  heard  the  voice,  “ Saul,  Saul,  why  persecutest  thou  me?”  Prostrated  as  he  was 
with  his  companions,  he  yet  distinguished  the  words  spoken,  and  inquiring  who  it  was  that 
spoke,  learned  that  it  was  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  From  that  moment  his  unbelief  departed  never 
to  return.  It  was  some  days  before  he  received  baptism,  but  the  voice  of  the  Lord  wrought 
at  once  the  total  and  irreversible  change.  He  who  had  gone  forth  from  Jerusalem  “breathing 
out  threatenings  and  slaughter  against  the  disciples,”  entered  Damascus  an  humbled,  believ- 
ing penitent. 


SAUL'S  CONVERSION. 


THE  DELIVERANCE  OF  ST.  PETER. 


ACTS  XII.,  3-19. 


Of  the  impetuous  Peter  more  is  told  us  in  the  New  Testament  than  of  any  other  of  the 
original  twelve.  Yet  nothing  in  his  previous  history  is  so  striking  as  the  story  of  his  rescue 
from  the  hands  of  the  cruel  and  impious  Herod.  The  king  had  slain  the  Apostle  James,  but 
he  reserved  Peter  in  prison,  intending  to  bring  him  forth  for  execution  after  the  Passover.  To 
make  sure  of  his  victim  he  gave  him  in  charge  to  four  quaternions  of  soldiers,  who  were  to 
relieve  each  other  in  guarding  the  prisoner.  Two  of  each  quaternion  watched  before  the  door, 
and  the  other  two  held  Peter  chained  to  their  arms.  But  while  they  were  watching,  the  church 
was  praying ; and  the  deliverance  took  place  as  shown  in  the  illustration.  One  night  Peter 
was  roused  from  sleep  by  a bright  light  illumining  the  dungeon  and  the  voice  of  an  angel 
bidding  him  arise,  while  at  the  same  moment  the  chains  fell  from  his  hands.  Then  the 
apostle,  by  direction,  deliberately  dressed  himself  and  followed  the  angel,  although  it  seemed 
to  him  as  if  the  whole  were  a mere  vision.  The  heavenly  messenger  led  him  straight  through 
one  ward  after  another-  till  they  came  to  the  iron  gate,  which  of  its  own  accord  opened  before 
them,  and  then  they  found  themselves  at  large  in  the  city,  whereupon  the  angel  disappeared 
and  Peter  sought  the  society  of  his  friends. 

The  illustration  depicts  the  apostle  led  by  the  angel  as  he  passes  down  the  stone  steps  into 
the  night  dimly  illumined  by  the  moon,  while  the  guards  lie  around  stretched  out  in  slumber. 
The  form  and  countenance  of  Peter  well  express  the  vague  astonishment  he  must  have  felt  at 
his  unexpected  and  miraculous  deliverance. 


THE  DELIVERANCE  OF  ST.  PETER. 


. 


- 

' 


. 


PAUL  AT  EPHESUS. 


ACTS  XIX.,  17-20. 


Ephesus,  the  capital  of  the  Roman  province  of  Asia,  was  distinguished  not  only  for  its 
famous  temple  of  Diana,  one  of  the  seven  wonders  of  the  ancient  world,  but  for  its  skill  in  all 
the  magical  or  occult  arts  by  which  man  proposes  to  lay  open  the  secrets  of  nature  and 
arm  himself  with  supernatural  powers.  So  far  did  this  extend  that  “ Ephesian  letters  ” or 
“ inscriptions  ” became  proverbial  as  a designation  of  written  charms,  amulets  and  talismans. 
These  were  connected  with  the  worship  of  Diana,  on  whose  image  certain  mystical  and 
unintelligible  words  are  said  to  have  been  written  and  thence  transferred  to  paper  or  parch- 
ment. Croesus,  King  of  Lydia,  is  said  to  have  muttered  some  of  these  charms  upon  his 
funeral  pile  ; and  a story  was  told  of  a certain  wrestler  at  Olympia  who  could  not  be  over- 
thrown until  he  was  deprived  of  an  Ephesian  amulet  about  his  ankle. 

One  of  the  effects  of  the  preaching  of  the  Gospel  at  Ephesus  was  to  expose  the  true 
character  of  these  false  and  deceitful  arts.  Many  of  the  practitioners  of  magic  and  sorcery  not 
only  renounced  their  trade,  but  gave  up  its  implements  to  destruction.  They  brought,  we  are 
told,  “their  books,”  including  not  only  the  charms  and  amulets,  but  the  large  rolls  or  volumes 
containing  the  rules  and  formulas  of  incantation.  They  showed  their  sincerity  by  burning 
these  instead  of  selling  them,  as  they  might  have  done  for  a sum  which  in  our  currency  would 
have  amounted  to  many  thousands  of  dollars — all  books  in  ancient  times  being  expensive,  and 
especially  such  as  contained  secrets  or  charms  held  in  high  estimation. 

The  picture  sets  forth  this  triumph  of  principle  in  a life-like  way.  Men,  one  after  another, 
are  bringing  their  once  prized  volumes  and  casting  them  into  the  fire,  while  Paul  stands  above 
encouraging  the  sacrifice,  and  near  by  is  the  magnificent  temple  whose  goddess  gave  the 
sanction  to  the  magical  rites. 

o 


PAUL  AT  EPHESUS. 


PAUL  MENACED  BY  THE  JEWS. 


ACTS  XXI.  31-36. 


The  illustration  sets  forth  one  of  the  first  incidents  of  that  imprisonment  of  the  apostle 

which  continued  for  years,  and  at  last  brought  him  to  stand  before  Caesar  at  Rome.  He  was 

in  the  temple,  where  he  had  a right  to  be,  when  suddenly  some  foreign-born  Jews,  more  bitter 
even  than  the  native  Hebrews,  raised  a cry  against  him  as  one  who  opposed  the  law  and  was 

profaning  the  holy  place  by  bringing  Gentiles  into  it.  The  whole  city  was  stirred  ; Paul  was 

dragged  out  of  the  temple,  and  the  tumultuous  crowd  were  seeking  to  kill  him.  His  life  was 
in  great  danger,  when  the  commander  of  the  garrison,  learning  of  the  disturbance,  hastened  to 
the  spot  with  soldiers  and  centurions.  His  presence  made  the  mob  stop  beating  Paul,  but  he 
could  not  learn  the  true  state  of  the  case,  some  crying  one  thing  and  some  another.  So  he 
commanded  the  apostle  to  be  conveyed  into  the  castle,  but  when  they  came  to  the  stairs  such 
was  the  violent  pressure  of  the  maddened  crowd  that  he  had  to  be  “ borne  of  the  soldiers.” 

It  is  this  exciting  scene  which  the  picture  portrays,  presenting  in  broad  contrast  the  chief 
captain  at  the  top,  the  struggling  apostle,  the  resolute  soldiers  and  the  confused  mass  of  Jews 
pressing  forward  toward  the  object  of  their  angry  hate. 


PAUL  MENACED  BY  THE  JEWS. 


PAUL’S  SHIPWRECK. 


ACTS  XXVII.,  43,  44. 


The  illustration  represents  the  concluding  scene  of  the  apostle’s  last  recorded  voyage — that 
in  which  he  was  carried  a prisoner  to  Rome.  Luke’s  account  of  this  remarkable  voyage  is 
characterized  by  a great  fullness  and  exactness  of  nautical  details,  which  the  latest  and  most 
critical  investigations  have  only  served  to  render  more  surprising  in  themselves  and  more 
conclusive  as  internal  evidences  of  authenticity  and  genuineness.  For  fourteen  days  the  vessel 
was  driven  up  and  down  the  Adriatic  Sea,  most  of  the  time  without  the  light  of  either  sun  or 
stars.  During  this  anxious  period  Paul,  the  prisoner,  was  the  calmest  man  on  board.  He 
encouraged  the  passengers  and  crew,  foretold  that  they  would  be  cast  away  on  a certain  island, 
but  declared  that  no  life  should  be  lost.  And  so  it  turned  out.  At  last  they  ran  the  ship 
aground,  and  all  escaped,  some  by  plunging  into  the  sea,  others  by  trusting  themselves  to  such 
spars  or  fragments  as  they  could  seize. 

It  is  this  point  which  the  artist  has  chosen  to  depict.  The  helpless  hulk  lies  in  the 
distance,  here  and  there  a passenger  is  cast  upon  the  shore,  while  Paul  stands  in  the  fore- 
ground with  extended  arm,  as  if  recognizing  the  goodness  of  God  in  giving  to  him  the  lives  of 
two  hundred  and  seventy-six  souls.  Thrice  before  he  had  suffered  shipwreck  (II.  Corin. 
xi.,  25),  and  once  had  been  a night  and  a day  in  the  deep  ; but  never  had  he  had  such  an  event- 
ful experience,  such  a variety  of  dangers  and  such  a wondrous  deliverance  in  the  end,  as 
marked  this  voyage. 


l’AUL’S  SHIPWRECK. 


DEATH  ON  THE  PALE  HORSE. 

REVELATION  VI.,  8. 


The  seals  of  the  Apocalypse  have  been  the  subject  of  many  and  varied  interpretations,  but 
the  tenor  of  this  one,  the  fourth,  scarcely  admits  of  any  doubt.  What  the  seer  saw  was  a pale 
horse,  i.  e.,  one  of  pallid  or  livid  color,  the  peculiar  greenish  hue  which  indicates  the  approach 
of  dissolution.  The  rider  was  Death — not  any  particular  form  of  death,  such  as  war,  pestilence, 
or  famine,  but  the  King  of  Terrors  himself.  No  description  is  given  of  his  person,  nor  does 
he  appear  with  any  emblem,  as  sword  or  spear  or  bow.  Imagination  has  all  possible  scope  to 
conceive  the  form  of  the  destroyer  as  it  will,  and  there  is  just  that  degree  of  obscurity  which 
tends  to  sublimity.  Attending  him  is  Hell  (or  rather  Hades,  the  abode  of  the  dead),  ready  to 
gather  up  the  slain — that  personified  abyss  which  enlargeth  itself  and  openeth  its  mouth  with- 
out measure ; and  men’s  glory  and  their  multitude  and  their  pomp  descend  into  it  (Isaiah 
v.,  14). 

This  striking  symbol  has  often  employed  the  pencil  of  the  artist.  M.  Dore  has  done  it 
justice.  The  piece  is  full  of  action.  Amid  the  shades  of  night  we  see  the  headlong  horse 
with  terrible  nostrils  and  neck  clothed  with  thunder,  the  fierce  rider  with  his  resistless  scythe, 
and  behind,  the  array  of  demoniac  figures  rushing  eagerly  on  their  prey. 


DEATH  ON  THE  PALE  HORSE, 


' . 


4- 


